


The Genesis of Sarah Connor

by skca54



Category: Terminator (Movies), Terminator Genisys (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skca54/pseuds/skca54
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Terminator has a New Mission. He has given Sarah Connor a New Life. She now has a New Fate. A story based on the 'Terminator: Genisys' movie. **** Please be warned that there may be spoilers ****</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THERE MAY BE SPOILERS, IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE MOVIE

**_North America  
Sierra Nevada_ **

**_October 1973_ **

A whole month has passed since the life that I knew ended, quite spectacularly.

I now have a robot to protect me. Although most of the time he behaves like a walking, encyclopaedia and he can be quite annoying at times. I have a lot of work ahead of me if I am going to make Pops capable of integrating into society and passing for a normal person. For now though, he is a typical parent: embarrassing!

Yeah, I called him ‘Pops’, as I have no one else. He said he is dedicated to protecting me from harm. He takes this a little far at times, however, he is what he is and I cannot hold it against him. He has tried to explain to me, why I am now alone and being looked after, or ‘protected’ as he puts it, by a machine. However, his explanations may as well be in Chinese for all I understood of them.

Super Computers, Quantum thingys, T-800, T-1000. They all mean nothing to a nine-year-old. Although, apparently, he is a T-800 Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 Terminator. Designed to infiltrate and kill humans, he is a cybernetic whatever with a living skin covering his endoskeleton. Pops has a much better sounding description, but that was all I could really understand and remember!

Will my life ever be normal again?

Right now, I seriously doubt it.

* * *

 

My name is Sarah Connor.

Apparently, three billion human lives will end on August 29, 1997. The survivors of the nuclear fire will call the one-sided war, Judgment Day. They will live only to face a new nightmare, the war against The Machines. The computer, which will control the machines, Skynet, sent a Terminator back through time. Its mission: to destroy the mother of the leader of the Human Resistance... John Connor. My son. The Terminator was programmed to strike at me, in the year 1973, _way_ before John was born and when I was only nine-years-old.

Needless, to say, it failed. A re-programmed Terminator was sent to prevent my death. Who sent him? I have no idea. Will they try again? Apparently, yes.

For now, that Terminator is The Guardian of the only hope for the Human Race.

 


	2. Home

**_November 1973_ **

This week, we have learnt about boundaries.

Both on my part and his part!

Only a week ago, we moved into this neat house, in the Sierra Nevada, near to a town called Shaver Lake. I think the place is really, really, neat and the location is perfect, way up in the hills; I’m really looking forward to getting out into the wilderness. Pops, however, he says the house offers ‘good arcs of fire’ and is ‘easily defensible against attack’. Not to mention the ‘useful escape routes’ into the mountains. That guy can really suck the excitement out of anything!

I also need to work on his sense of humour. Actually, saying that I need to ‘work on’, his sense of humour implies that he already has one; he does not! As for sarcasm? Forget it. His ‘database’ seems to consist of everything, _except_ , how to look after a nine-year-old human being. So much for highly advanced technology from the future!

Pops has also learnt to growl. He uses it to show that he is getting annoyed. Since when can a machine get annoyed? I suppose growling is better than something else, although I am not sure what ‘something else’ might be, yet.

I have a room, all to myself. It is the biggest in the house and has its own bathroom. Pops does not sleep, although to keep up the pretence that he is vaguely human, we have ‘allocated’ him a bedroom. Talking of bedrooms, I have taught him about privacy and knocking. Although his knocking needs a bit of practice as my bedroom door now has a slight crack in it! As for the boundaries part, Pops actually walked in when I was coming out of the bathroom with nothing on. He did not seem to notice, but _I_ did; I yelled at him to get out. Although, when I thought about it later, ignoring the fact that he looks like a man, it was about as bad as being naked in front of the toaster.

..._...

He may look like a man, but he is not a man and I have to keep telling myself this. When I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming for my parents, he appears at my bedroom door with some comment about ‘dreams are natural’ and ‘it is good to grieve’. Usually I have no idea what he is talking about, but it does comfort me, which is a surprise. Once or twice, I have hugged him, to which he does not reciprocate; however just having him there helps a lot.

Soon after he rescued me from the water, I asked him if I could go home, but he said that ‘they’, whoever _they_ might be may, ‘try to reacquire me there’. He has a weird-sounding way of talking, which I suppose just adds to his charm. 

At least once a week, he _tells_ me to ‘sit down’ and then starts a monotonous lecture on what I am going to be and why I am to be protected ‘at all costs’. Some of it is very flattering, however, some of it is downright freaky for a girl of my age. Only last week I was introduced to the name ‘Kyle Reese’. Not sure who he is yet, but Pops says he is important. Sometimes Pops finishes his lectures leaving many unanswered questions which he then refuses to answer: “You have a small brain and it will take time for you to acquire all the extra knowledge that you will require to survive.”

I chose not to be insulted by that comment.

..._...

One minor problem cropped up, too. I am only nine-years-old, although not far from being ten, and I had to explain to Pops that I knew very little about cooking and the various other household things. Pops does not need to eat, so to speak, however, he did try to explain that he does need ‘sustenance to maintain my living tissue component’. Pops obtained some cash from somewhere; I did not press him on it. I eat well, but I am not a big eater, so a little food tends to go a long way.

A few short weeks ago, I was playing with dolls and reading books about princes and princesses. Now Pops has introduced me to a completely different set of what he calls, ‘training equipment’ and ‘relevant reading material’. By this I mean he sat me down and dumped a large pistol in front of me, along with a book from the local library on gun care.

That was my first pistol and it was heavy!

“Colt 1911 in .45-calibre!” Pops intoned.

“Any chance of something just a tiny bit smaller?” I asked. “I mean, it suits you, but not me.”

My hands were tiny compared to his! I could barely lift the massive pistol. Pops just stared at me and growled.

“Is it loaded?” I asked tentatively, keeping my fingers well away from the trigger.

“An unloaded weapon is not a weapon,” Came the reply.

..._...

That was the start of my extra-curricular training. Somehow, Pops has fitted himself into the Town of Shaver Lake and he has a job, working on construction, although I warned him about showing off his muscles too much; Pops can lift a truck clean off the ground! I asked if I could go to the local school, so at least I would have humans to talk to, but Pops said no.

He has also showed me, on a map, _my_ boundaries. Places where I was not allowed to go beyond, things like that. The boundaries were very tight; I would have to talk with Pops about that!

..._...

I got annoyed with Pops the other day and swore at him. He responded quite sharply!

“Language of that sort is not desirable in a human of your development.”

“My _development_?” I had retorted.

“Profanity is generally used by humans in the later stages of development.”

I gave up. I have also discovered that arguing with a robot gets you nowhere! I would need to improve my vocabulary before I could argue with him. Maybe I should read a dictionary to compete with the one he has obviously swallowed.

For now, I feel safe, tucked up in bed while The Guardian remains downstairs on guard.

* * *

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance (Infra-Red)_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.73%_ **Endoskeleton:** _99.98%_ **Living Tissue:** _98.01% (Regenerating)_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _99.97% **Power Cell 2:** 99.98% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 10 Months 2 Days 8 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _Low_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE … SLEEPING_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING … SLOWLY_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_


	3. Lesson One

I screwed up so badly.

At one stage, I was convinced that Pops was going to terminate me!

I had managed to get the _stupidest_ idea into my head that was humanly possible. I had spent a good chunk of the day on the bus, travelling to Fresno, nearly fifty miles away. I had the notion of heading home, just to see the place...

It was stupid, but like most ideas; it seemed a good idea at the time. I knew where Pops stashed his wages and I stole some of it. Pops was working, so I took my chance. I hoped to be back way before he got home, only the distances, which looked so small on a map, were actually much larger!

Everything fell apart when I had my money stolen. I had no way of getting home and it had never occurred to me to get a return bus ticket. Not so clever are you Sarah? I ended up sitting in a corner of the bus station, crying. Everybody just ignored the stupid little girl sobbing in the corner, which was okay; I wanted to be alone.

I thought back to _that_ day.

**...+...**

Till the day I die, I will never forget that moment. The moment when I first looked up from the water, beneath the dock, and saw him for the first time. He was enormous and he stared down at me. There was something about him that, whilst I was beyond scared, I did not try to swim away.

Despite carrying some enormous weapon on his shoulder, he effortlessly bent down and reached out with his hand. His hand was enormous and I reached up with my own much smaller hand and he grasped it, lifting me out of the water like I was nothing.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and he carried me away from the carnage and to safety. At that moment I had no idea who, or for that matter _what_ , he was. He had saved my life, neither of us said a word as he carried me to his truck and we drove away to safety.

**...+...**

**_Fresno Bus Station_ **

I was approached by a Cop. Just my luck!

“You lost?”

I was wary of everybody, even of a Cop.

“Kind of.”

“Well, come with me, then, young lady.”

He held out his hand to me, but his eyes, there was no emotion.

“Uh, no, thanks,” I said, running off past the Cop.

“Hey!” The Cop called after me, but I ignored him.

..._...

I ran out of the bus station and around the back where again I found a corner to sit down in. A few minutes later, I heard a gunshot followed by another, deeper blast, followed by two more. There were some screams and I peeked around the corner. Hey, I’m a curious girl! I couldn’t see anything happening and I was about to move forward when suddenly part of the wall exploded and something crashed through rolling onto the blacktop and was then covered by flying masonry. I turned and ran.

I had no idea where I was going, I just had to get away, something bad was happening and somehow I knew that it involved Sarah Connor!

I took a wrong turn and found myself in an alley down the back of the bus station. At the far end was a door, it opened and then Pops was right there in front of me, standing at the door. I smiled and started to move towards him, but then a nagging doubt entered my mind and I heard Pops’ stern monologue.

**…+…**

“The T-1000 is a mimetic polyalloy.”

“Huh?”

“Liquid metal.”

“Okay! So what does _that_ mean?”

“He can impersonate anybody that he has had contact with, or who exists in his files... Even me.”

“Not good,” I commented.

“You are targeted for termination. The T-1000 will not stop until it completes its mission...”

He must have learnt about dramatic pauses somewhere, because he added one word that really scared me.

“... Ever.”

**…+…**

Pops had made me setup a codeword that we could use so I could always identity ‘friend from foe’ as he put it.

“Cabbage!” I called out and smiled hopefully, at Pops.

Pops said nothing he just stared at me.

My legs felt weak all of a sudden and then it hit me like a wave. I felt the tears of fear welling up inside me and I started to shake. The Terminator just stared at me. My suspicion was confirmed as Pops seemed to melt away and he was replaced by the Cop. He started to walk towards me. I did not hesitate.

I turned and ran.

* * *

 

I made it out of the alley and turned left, back towards the where the buses stopped.

I passed the large hole in the concrete wall, but saw that whatever had gone through the wall was no longer there, anymore. Then I heard a roaring noise and I felt my arm all but ripped from its socket as I flew through the air before landing astride an enormous motorcycle that I instantly recognised. It was the Harley-Davidson Shovelhead and I looked up to see Pops.

“Buttercup!” He said simply.

I felt _so_ happy, I instantly burst into tears, but I knew that we were not out of the woods yet as Pops clamped a hand across me and increased speed. I closed my eyes as the motorcycle veered from side to side. I heard gun shots and then just the roar of the engine.

..._...

It was very late and very dark when we got home. Pops had not said a word. It had been a very long drive and I was tired. Pops kept a hold of me as he climbed off the motorcycle and carried me into the house and straight upstairs before dumping me, none too gently, onto my bed.

As he walked to the door, he turned and his expression was new to me. However, I interpreted it as anger and disappointment. He said one word as he left the room and closed the door.

“Stay!”

I just cried.

* * *

 

The following morning I awoke feeling really, very ashamed with myself.

I also felt glad to be alive _and_ in one piece. Pops had stopped and given me a once over on the way back from Fresno. Not a scratch, although I was certain that Pops had a scratch or too. I knew that he could take a beating, but he was a machine and machines could be damaged. The more damage they accumulated, the more chance that they would breakdown.

I finally gathered the nerve to head downstairs.

I found Pops where he usually was each morning, in the living room with a shotgun.

He turned as I entered.

“Good morning, Sarah.” It had taken him two weeks to finally stop calling me ‘Sarah Connor’ and just to use my first name only!

“Hi, Pops,” I said quietly. “How did you find me?”

“I am a Terminator; I search for stupid humans whom deserve to die.”

That cut deep, as I think it was supposed to!

“I am very sorry,” I said. “I will never do it again.”

Pops seemed to stare at me intently for half a minute before speaking again.

“Based on your motor functions, pupil dilation and skin temperature I calculate a forty-three point six seven percent chance that you will do it again.”

“Huh!”

This sucked. Lesson learned!

* * *

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _98.18%_ **Endoskeleton:** _98.60%_ **Living Tissue:** _99.2% (Regenerating)_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _99.94% **Power Cell 2:** 99.97% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 9 Months 14 Days 16 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _43%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE … DISRUPTIVE_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING … ACCELERATION REQUIRED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

_****************_

_ Possible solutions to prevent Sarah Connor running away _

_Option 1: Bullet in head – INCOMPATIBLE WITH PRIMARY MISSION_

_Option 2: Break legs – MAY CAUSE UNACCEPTABLE DISTRESS TO SARAH CONNOR_

_Option 3: Keep Sarah Connor busy – OPTION ACCEPTED_

 


	4. More Lessons

The life of Sarah Connor just got _so_ much harder.

Apparently, lying to a terminator when you do not even know that you are lying is _not_ a good thing! I had absolutely no intention of running away again, however the enormous lie detector from the future, obviously thought otherwise.

“Sarah Connor, we have work to do.”

Okay, we were back to ‘Sarah Connor’, which did _not_ bode well for my immediate future.

“If you are going to behave in a disruptive manner then I will have to take steps to ensure that you will not put yourself at risk.”

Quite a long sentence for Pops, first thing in the morning.

“You will not leave this house without permission. You will stay in your room when you are not learning.”

“You’re _grounding_ me?” I demanded, playing the drama queen to the hilt. Which it turned out was a total waste of time as it was completely lost on The Guardian.

“It is for your own safety. You have work to perform.”

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” Giving up on the drama queen.

“Come with me.”

I followed Pops upstairs to an area, which overlooked the living room. There was a large wooden table there and on it were laid some weapons. Actually quite a lot of weapons.

“You will learn every weapon on the table. You will learn to take them apart, to clean them, to maintain them, to shoot them.”

I gazed across the field of metal and grimaced.

“That’ll take years!” I groaned.

“You will learn them all...”

“But, I...”

“No arguments. Start with the smaller weapons. You will need to carry a pistol at all times. You will stay here until I come for you.”

I was doomed.

“Yes, Pops!”

“I’ll be back!”

With that, he was gone.

* * *

I was lost.

Beside the guns was a stack of several books from the local library. All were about weapons of some description. I decided that I had a long day ahead of me, so I sat down with a long sigh and pulled a small pistol towards me, which I recognised as being a revolver. My gun knowledge was limited; however, I knew some basic gun safety. Therefore, before picking up the weapon I decided to find out some more about it. Pops had obviously selected the correct books as I found the pistol after only a few minutes. It was a Colt Cobra, apparently and it was very light as I picked it up and identified the safety.

..._...

By the time Pops reappeared, two hours later, I had identified eight of the weapons on the table.

“Well?” Pops asked without preamble.

I pointed at each of the eight weapons in turn; looking at the list, I had created and then rattled off their names and basic specifications.

“Colt Cobra with three-inch barrel in .38-calibre, six-rounds. Colt Python in .357 Magnum, six-rounds, double-action. Smith & Wesson Model 12 with two-inch barrel in .38-calibre, six -rounds. Smith & Wesson Model 13 in .357 Magnum, six -rounds. Walther PPK in .32 calibre, seven-rounds. Browning Hi-Power in nine-millimetre, thirteen-rounds. Smith & Wesson Model 29 in .44 Magnum, six-rounds. Heckler & Koch HK4 in .32-calibre, 7-rounds.”

I took a deep breath after all that!

Pops nodded.

“You are learning fast, Sarah. You were accurate in your descriptions.”

I actually felt myself beaming with pride!

“You have not redeemed yourself yet, Sarah Connor,” Pops continued.

My burst of pride exploded!

“How long?”

“Maybe until you’re fourteen.”

“ _Is that a joke_?” I demanded, trying the drama queen on again.

“Not very funny?”

“Not very funny,” I confirmed.

Pops allowed me to get something to eat, but then I was back at the table, researching guns.

..._...

I actually found it a lot of fun; I loved books and reading.

Before making and eating a sandwich, I had had to scrub my hands, as they were very dirty and greasy from handling the guns. None of the guns I had been handling had been loaded, which had been a surprise after what Pops had said the other day. However, I did consider that Pops while may have been a machine, he was not stupid and leaving me with a pile of loaded firearms may not have been a very good idea if he was intending to keep me alive!

Over the next three hours, I identified several more of the weapons, including one of the larger ones, which I actually thought was quite neat. It was a British sub-machine gun called a Sterling Mark 4 and there was a similar Mark 7 which I found both light and relatively easy to handle. I would have to speak with Pops about firing it.

..._...

I must have fallen asleep as I found myself waking up, only I was no longer at the table full of guns.

I was lying on my bed with a blanket over me. I looked around and saw Pops standing off to one side, gazing out of the window. He turned to me.

“You did very well; I saw the list you made; impressive. I found you asleep at the table two hours ago.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling ashamed.

“You are tired, Sarah. It is a part of being human.”

“Yeah, so much easier to have fusion whatsits isn’t it!” I replied with a laugh.

“Iridium Nuclear-Energy Cells,” Pops corrected.

“Yeah, them!”

* * *

 

The next morning I had barely finished breakfast before Pops whisked me off down the road, on the Harley.

I had noticed that the saddlebags were very full, but my questions were ignored, so I just clung on tightly and watched the scenery. After a while, Pops pulled off the road into a deserted forest and we both rode up a steep incline through the trees. We finally stopped in a small clearing that was empty except for a small wooden hut. Pops climbed off and I looked around before climbing off the Harley myself.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere private; we will not be disturbed.” Pops replied in his usual cryptic manner.

Pops started to unload an array of weapons from the saddlebags and carry them into the cabin. He laid the weapons down neatly on the wooden table in the kitchen part of the cabin. He then went out to the motorcycle and returned with a large metal can, which he placed, on the chair.

I looked quizzically at the tin as Pops pulled it open. Inside were many cardboard boxes with pictures and writing on them.

“Task one. Match up the rounds with the weapons.”

“Okay!”

I reached into the tin and brought out a small box labelled ‘.32 ACP’. I placed the box beside the Heckler & Koch HK4 pistol. I noticed that Pops had only brought the weapons that I had correctly identified. I had made two mistakes, which was not bad, I thought. I pulled out another cardboard box labelled ‘9x19mm Parabellum’. This, I placed beside the Browning Hi-Power and then dug around the tin for three more identical boxes that I then placed beside the Sterling sub-machine guns.

Ten minutes later, I was done and Pops scanned the table.

“You learn quickly.”

Pops seemed annoyed!

“ _So_ sorry about that, Pops!” I grinned.

I think Pops knew when I was being sarcastic, even if he did not understand it. He just growled.

..._...

Next Pops took me through the first pistol, which was the .32-calibre Walther PPK. He showed me how to check that the pistol was safe, how to remove the magazine and load it with the bullets, or ‘rounds’ as he told me they are called; Pops can be a bit ‘picky’ at times! We moved outside.

My hands were shaking as I held the pistol, loaded with five-rounds and I kept my finger away from the trigger, pointing the pistol down at the ground. Having pulled back the slide and released it the pistol was ‘chambered’ and ready to fire.

“Raise the pistol up, hold it in both hands with your feet apart... Wider... Now you will fire the pistol. Point it at that tree, take three deep breaths, and hold the last one, then squeeze the trigger.”

I was not ready for the load noise and as I ‘squeezed’ the trigger, I heard the bang and dropped the gun! I think I saw Pops mouth twitch slightly; I was mortified.

“We will try again,” Pops said in his monotone. Although, I detected just a hint of, what was that? Ridicule?

I picked up the pistol, checked it was ready and aimed again. This time I was ready for the loud report and did _not_ drop the pistol. I squeezed the trigger three more times and the slide locked back on the empty magazine.

I felt amazing. That was the most incredible thing I had done in ages. I carefully pointed the gun at the ground as Pops moved towards me, having examined the tree.

“Looks like we can use that tree again,” Pops commented. “Good start.”

Okay, so I missed the damn tree, I had never shot a gun before!

“Now place the gun on the ground and hold your hands out,” Pops ordered.

I did so and Pops knelt down behind me and then held out his own enormous pistol in front of me.

“Take it!”

I grabbed hold of the butt of the Colt 1911 .45-calibre pistol and felt the weight; however, before I dropped it, Pops wrapped his enormous paws around my own tiny hands and took most of the weight of the pistol.

“Now, squeeze the trigger...”

I did exactly that and I was certain that the pistol would have smashed into my face if Pops had not been holding onto it. It was loud, very loud and the noise matched that which I had heard at the bus station in Fresno. I squeezed the trigger again, and again; I loved it. The smell of the burnt gunpowder was intoxicating and I wanted more. I squeezed the trigger four more times, enjoying each, and every explosion. Then the slide was locked back and as I let go of the monster pistol I found that my hands were shaking with the excitement

I turned and looked up at Pops. I was grinning fit to burst.

“Thank you and thank you for saving my life,” I said as I hugged him tightly.

I hoped that Pops at least understood my gesture of reconciliation and gratitude, even if it meant nothing to him emotionally. To me it meant everything. He was my life; it was now obvious to me that he would risk everything to keep me safe. The events in Fresno had shown Pops taking a beating, _for me_. Now, though, he was showing me how to protect myself. I knew that he would never leave me. He would never hurt me. He would be dependable to the end.

We would march towards my destiny, together.

..._...

We stayed at the cabin overnight.

Pops lit a fire and he helped me to cook some sausages over the fire. They tasted like heaven despite, being just a little bit burnt! I tried to get Pops to laugh, with some bad jokes, but all I got was a forced twitch at the corner of his mouth. I ended up having to explain each joke word by word so he understood them. Pops might have a lot of work ahead of him with me, but I also had a lot of work ahead of me with him!

..._...

When I awoke, it was very dark; the fire had long gone out; I was cold. I looked up to find myself curled up where I had been sitting next to Pops. Although Pops was no longer there. I had a blanket wrapped around me keeping me warm. I started to panic a bit, but then I saw the enormous standing silhouette of Pops against the moon, a shotgun resting on his shoulder.

I soon went back to sleep knowing I was safe for another night.

* * *

 

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance (Infrared)_

**_Targets:_ ** _Squirrels 13_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.02%_ **Endoskeleton:** _98.60%_ **Living Tissue:** _99.4% (Regenerating)_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _99.93% **Power Cell 2:** 99.97% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 9 Months 12 Days 6 Hours_

**_ Probability of Attack _ **

**_By T-1000:_ ** _31%_

**_By Squirrel:_ ** _78%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE … ASLEEP_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING … EXCEEDING EXPECTATIONS_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

**Squirrels Destroyed:** _1_

 

 

 


	5. Shopping

When I awoke, I was feeling a little stiff and I stretched out on the bare earth to relieve my aching muscles.

It was daylight. I pushed off the blanket and stood up. My clothes were a mess! However, I did not care; everything around me was perfect. There was silence except for the birds and the wind in the trees. Something caught my eye and I headed towards a tree. There, about five foot up there was a bright red splodge. I looked below the tree and found a yucky mess that I thought might have once been a squirrel. It looked like it had been mashed against the tree by some enormous force.

I heard footsteps and turned to see Pops coming out of the trees.

“The Squirrels upset you last night?” I asked with a grin.

“It came too close.”

“It was probably curious.”

“It could have been an enemy. You should never hesitate to strike.”

“It was only a damn squirrel!”

..._...

After an admittedly poor breakfast of tea and cold tinned beans, we went back to the weapons.

“I want to try that one,” I said enthusiastically, pointing at the cut-down Sterling Mark 7.

“You like that one?”

“I think it’s cool!”

“Load the magazine with ten rounds,” Pops directed.

I did as directed and carried the loaded magazine, plus the machine pistol outside to where we had fired the other guns.

“Check the weapon is clear and then insert the magazine.”

I did exactly that, ensuring that the selector lever was set to safe first. The weapon was heavy empty, but with ten nine-millimetre rounds it was heavier still. I kept the weapon aimed at the ground but I held it firmly. The weapon was just over a foot long which was fine for me. The pistol grip was comfortable and there was another vertical grip for me to hold a few inches in front of the trigger and only a couple of inches from the muzzle of the weapon.

Pops showed me how to brace the weapon against my right side holding the fore-grip securely. The stubby magazine extended out, horizontally, across my stomach. Pops warned me to keep my hands clear of the ejection port for the spent casings, which was located on the right side of the weapon above the trigger.

I pulled back the charging lever and let it slide forwards ‘chambering’ a round. Next I moved the selector lever to the semi-automatic position and squeezed off a single round. Wow! I felt the kick of the weapon against my side and held the fore-grip tighter. I fired four more single shots, finding that the gun was fairly, easy for me to handle, although the kick was very noticeable. I had five rounds left so I moved the selector lever to fully automatic and squeezed the trigger and held it. The five rounds vanished very fast and I almost lost control of the gun.

“That was cool!” I said to Pops.

“You handled it well. I would suggest that you keep that weapon loaded and in your bedroom,” Pops advised. “You will also need at least three, spare, fifteen-round magazines.

I smiled excitedly.

“You will still need a pistol.”

..._...

After some more shooting with the other weapons, I had finally chosen the .32-calibre Walther PPK as my pistol of choice, at least for now. It suited my hands well and I was able to control it fairly easily. I would still need practice, a lot of practice, before I was able to use it properly – the tree was still unmarked!

I enjoyed firing the Sterling Mark 7 and that would be a useful weapon if needed. The other sub-machine guns, including the full sized Sterling Mark 4 were too heavy for me to use safely. I had a long way to go before I would be able to fight, but you had to start somewhere.

I made the mistake of making a snide comment to Pops about looking a mess and needing a bath. The next thing I knew, I screamed as a bucket of freezing cold water was poured over me.

“You asshole!” I yelled.

“That is very impolite, Sarah Connor. You said you needed a bath.”

I laughed as I shivered.

“We need to talk about your sense of humour, Pops!”

* * *

It has been two and a half months since I was rescued by The Guardian and I am now in  _desperate_ need of some new clothes and stuff.

The only clothes that I had were those I had been rescued in and a selection that we had picked up since. I wanted to see some proper clothes and I wanted a good selection to choose from, too. As a result, a day after we had returned home after the couple of days at the cabin, I suggested to Pops that I needed to go shopping.

“Pops, can we go find a decent store, a large one. I need clothes and other stuff.”

Pops looked me up and down.

“You do look a mess and you could do with some extra clothes.”

“Gee, thanks!”

..._...

He thought that was a good idea, so we headed to a large store on the outskirts of Bakersfield.

I had absolutely no idea where he had found it, but Pops now has a truck to go with his Harley. Yeah, he had a truck when he rescued me, a green one, but he dumped it within a week. Then he appeared with the Harley. I decided that it was best not to ask questions at that point! Only a week ago, the truck had appeared. It’s a 1970 Ford F-250 truck, in red and white. It actually suits Pops well and I liked it a lot! The motorcycle was fun, but not all that comfortable and winter was not far off. The truck made the long drive a little easier and _much_ more comfortable. We would also have room for lots of new stuff. I was excited by the prospects of shopping!

..._...

At the store, I grabbed a cart, as we were intending on picking up quite a lot of stuff.  Pops was trying to help, but he was not being helpful, if you know what I mean. I think he must have been reading some books on parenting or something like that as he suggested that I might want some toys for my room. Only, Pops was indicating the very girly stuff, like for six-year-olds. I did, however, pick up a few things to keep me busy when I was not messing around with guns, like plenty of paper and colouring stuff, that sort of thing. I also added quite a few books to the cart as well.

Next, we passed by the clothes section and Pops just kind of stared at me, looking me up and down and then started looking through the clothes. Like he had the faintest idea what I was after! While I was looking for some sneakers and hiking boots, Pops appeared with a black leather jacket, which was a miniature version of what he wore. I smiled and nodded my approval as I grabbed it and tried it on. Remarkably, Pops had picked the exact right size, with a little growth margin built in. Not sure how he figured out my size without measuring me, though!

I liked the jacket; it was cool. Pops dropped two of the jackets into the cart along with four pairs of jeans and quite a few t-shirts. It was difficult to keep up with him to make sure he wasn’t getting anything stupid. Most of the colours he picked were dark, which fitted in with him, but I added a few lighter colours including some pinks and purples along with some light blues.

Then the embarrassment began. There I was examining some shorts when Pops arrived and I heard giggling from some other girls nearby. I turned and saw him holding up some knickers, which was embarrassing enough, but in his other hand he held a bra!

I slowly walked up to Pops, reached up and he allowed me to pull him down to my level. I hissed into his ear.

“Knickers, okay – _just not in public_. As for the bra – _not yet_...I’ll let you know.”

Pops just shrugged and threw the knickers into the cart and returned the bra to the rack. I felt my face bursting into flame as the other girls giggled at my embarrassment. Naturally, Pops saw absolutely nothing wrong with his behaviour!

..._...

So far, I had quite a haul, which included quite a few items of clothing and footwear. I had a few pairs of soft sneakers and a couple of pairs of strong, sturdy boots for hiking, as I knew we would be going up into the mountains. I also picked up a small rucksack, a waterproof jacket, and some thicker clothes for winter. Pops also suggested I might need some thicker clothes for when we went into the mountains.

We wandered through the store and I picked up some toiletries and such. Pops suggested that I choose some food so we could properly stock up the freezer at home, ready for the approaching winter. I had no idea what to pick but pointed out some burgers, bacon and steaks, plus plenty of fries, along with some tinned stuff. I decided that I would need to learn to cook properly as I was getting fed up with cereal and sandwiches!

After picking up a selection of other items we had filled three carts and I hoped that Pops had enough cash to pay for it all. Thankfully he did and despite some strange looks we eventually found ourselves outside and Pops loaded everything into the back of the truck.

Once we had both climbed into the truck ready to go home, I turned to Pops.

“New rules!” I said loudly. “No discussing my underwear in public. No talk of bras until _I_ say so. Oh, one more rule, lighten up on the colours.”

Pops just growled and started the truck.

* * *

 

Back at home, I spent well over three hours putting everything away and trying a lot of it on.

I was impressed with Pops; everything fitted, even the knickers. It was very exciting and while I did model some of my clothes for Pops and tried to get his opinion, he seemed to approve of everything, which was not much help. I think he did like me wearing the leather jacket, matched with a dark blue t-shirt and black jeans, finished off with a pair of boots. I thought I looked pretty cool in it!

One slight problem was almost running out of space to store everything! But I managed it and I threw away the clothes that I had worn when Pops had rescued me. I felt a twinge of sadness when I did that as those clothes were all I had left of my parents. However I had promised myself that I was _not_ going to dwell on the past; I needed to look forward, to what Pops calls my destiny, my fate.

One additional item that I had insisted that Pops bought, was a camera. We had picked up a Polaroid Colorpack 80-series camera and it was awesome. I forced Pops to take some pictures of me in my leather jacket outfit, more than one actually. Pops insisted that he recorded every image that he saw, in his database. I countered that with the fact that there was no way for him to print those images!

I stuck the photos up on the wall in my bedroom, but gave one to Pops which he stuck in his pocket. Pops started talking about ‘sentimental attachment’, but gave up. I didn’t care if he was a robot or cybernetic thingy, I wanted him to feel like he belonged. It was difficult with Pops to get him to say how he ‘felt’ without him rattling along about how Terminators did not have feelings.

I know his reasons for protecting me are orders in his programming and they have nothing to do with love or caring, but I liked to think that he did at least care for me. I had to care about somebody; I had nobody else and to me, Pops _was_ a ‘somebody’ and _not_ a ‘something’. I saw the flesh that was the man, not the machine underneath.

I wondered, what did Pops see when he looked at me? I asked him.

“Pops? What do you see when you look at me?”

“Trouble!” He said simply.

“Oh, very funny!” I replied, laughing.

“I see a young girl with a lot of possibility ahead of her. At first, I was unsure about how you might advance. Now, I see I have a difficult task ahead of me, but you are strong and very capable, within you own set of specifications.”

I actually felt myself blushing. I think that was as close to an approval as I was going to get!

* * *

 

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.04%_ **Endoskeleton:** _98.60%_ **Living Tissue:** _99.8% (Regenerating)_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _99.93% **Power Cell 2:** 99.96% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 9 Months 09 Days 2 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _22%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE … TEMPERAMENTAL_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING … EXCEEDING EXPECTATIONS_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Squirrels are good (according to Sarah Connor) and should not be terminated (or squashed)._

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Winter

**_December 1973_ **

Winter arrived, with a vengeance.

Whilst there was no snow, it was still freezing! During October and November, I had helped Pops collect plenty of firewood for the winter. I think for every log that I carried under the house; Pops managed an entire tree! There was a large fire pit outside the house, which we had used once or twice and it burnt really, very hot and was fun of an evening. Inside, though, we had a very nice log fire in the living room, which did very well keeping the temperature comfortable, although the light clothing had been put away and I was wearing at least two t-shirts and a jumper.

Pops had no issues with the cold but wore warm clothes just to keep up appearances. I was very glad I had bought some decent boots as it was very wet, too and foggy. The temperature was what I hated the most, as it never got above six degrees Celsius outside.

..._...

One thing made me happy, though, and that was the holidays!

It was the first week in December and I was looking forward to Christmas, I always did. Although my happy thoughts had been tempered with the thoughts of my dead parents and what would be my first Christmas without them.

I was also more than a little concerned about presents, would I get any?

I doubted that Pops understood the Christmas madness!

* * *

Since first moving into the house, and after the little incident in Fresno, Pops had outlined several escape routes.

Pops had shown me, on a map, different routes that could be taken, from the house, to safety. I had also learnt to read a map properly and to understand the scale! I had also learnt to despise the little brown lines that were contours. The closer together they were, the steeper the climb. Pops made me memorise the escape routes and we had walked all of them, several times.

There were also safe locations for me to hide, until Pops could come for me after defeating whatever the threat was at the time. I was to be ready, at all times, to move on a moment’s notice. I had a rucksack packed and ready to go with clothes, food and other supplies. Secreted around the house were numerous weapons, all of which I was at least familiar with. Some of them were much too big and heavy for me to handle, though.

I knew that I could leap out of bed, pull on clothes and boots and be ready in a little over two minutes.

I was impressed by that, Pops not so much!

* * *

 

**_December 5 th_ **

I had been in the middle of a particularly enjoyable dream when I was suddenly brought back to consciousness by my shoulder being shaken vigorously.

“What?” I demanded, half asleep.

“Move!” Pops almost shouted. “Escape Route Beta!”

My mind went into overdrive as the words galvanised me into action. I leapt out of the bed and pulled on my clothes, boots and a warm jacket along with a hat and some gloves. I pulled my rucksack onto my back and with my Walther PPK pistol in my hand and Sterling Mk 4 over my shoulder; I ran out of the house and headed north.

Escape Route Beta, was a short one, but in complete darkness it would not be easy. I had absolutely no idea what was happening back at the house. I just knew that I had to get well away from it and to the safe location as soon as possible.

It was very cold and it was raining. My hat and gloves did not do much to keep the cold at bay. It must have been well below freezing. My boots kept my feet dry and stopped me slipping in the mud. I pounded my way through the trees to the road and then I crossed over and vanished into more trees. I was heading towards Musick Creek where there was a useful place on the mountainside, which would give me good cover and allow other potential escape routes.

I was scared and I was concerned for Pops, but I knew what I had to do. I ran as fast as was safe and then I heard it. I could hear somebody or something else in the same woods. I had the impression of something large; I ran harder and I felt tears running down my cheeks. I took a moment to look behind me and I was convinced that I saw a pair of red lights looking in my direction.

I fired off three rounds from the Walther in the direction of the lights and ran even harder.

* * *

 

****** PRIMARY TARGET ACQUIRED ****  
**** TARGET MOVING ******

**MODE:** _PURSUIT_

 **DISTANCE TO TARGET:** _17.6 METRES_

 **BEARING TO TARGET:** _345 DEGREES_

 **COURSE TO INTERCEPT:** _349 DEGREES_

 **TARGET IDENTIFICATION:** _SARAH CONNOR_

 **VISION MODE:** _LOW LIGHT_

 **PROBABILITY OF MISSION SUCCESS:** _97.88%_

* * *

 

I finally reached the safe location.

My trousers were covered in mud and soaked with the rain.  I pulled around the Sterling and made myself ready. I was in a small cleft in the rocks that gave me a good field of fire. It would also act as a shield against an attack.

My legs ached with all the running and I was shaking both from the cold and with fear. I saw the twin red lights again and they were moving towards me. The tears came faster and harder now; I was petrified. Other escape routes started to play through my mind as I considered my position.

At the back of my mind was a thought that I was doing my best to ignore; Pops was dead and I was being hunted down for termination.

* * *

 

 ****** PRIMARY TARGET ACQUIRED ******  
**** TARGET STATIC ****  
**** INTERCEPTION COMPLETE ****

 **MODE:** _PURSUIT_

 **DISTANCE TO TARGET:** _1.7 METRES_

 **BEARING TO TARGET:** _027 DEGREES_

 **COURSE TO INTERCEPT:** _027 DEGREES_

 **TARGET IDENTIFICATION:** _SARAH CONNOR_

 **VISION MODE:** _LOW LIGHT_

 **PROBABILITY OF MISSION SUCCESS:** _100.00%_

** POSSIBLE ACTIONS **

_TERMINATE_

* * *

 

A large shape appeared, towering above me and as I raised the Sterling, I heard a voice.

“Banana!”

I froze; it was a codeword.

I responded, or rather stammered, “Strontium.”

The response came back immediately.

“Football!”

My tears of fear changed to tears of joy; it was Pops.

* * *

 

Pops carried me all the way back to the house.

I was expecting to see signs of a firefight or for Pops to put me in the truck so we could escape, but no. Pops finally put me down in the nice, warm, cosy kitchen. He responded to my quizzical expression.

“That was a test, Sarah Connor.”

I could not process that immediately. I placed the guns onto the kitchen counter and then I shrugged off my rucksack, followed by my gloves and hat. I then turned to Pops, feeling anger building inside me.

“ _A test!_ ” I yelled. “You put me through that, _just for a test!_ ”

“You did very well...”

I cut him off.

“I thought it was for real. I thought I was going to die. I thought you were going to die. I shot at you.”

“You missed.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” I continued yelling, tears of frustration and anger on my cheeks. “You put me through hell!”

“I had to see how you would react in a real situation.”

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” I demanded starting to feel more tired than angry.

“Yes,” Pops said, leaving me alone.

I was soaked to the skin, so I just dragged my wet and muddy clothes off in the kitchen and walked to my room naked. I was too pissed off to be concerned about who might see me as I dived into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

 

The following morning I was still raging.

How could he do that to me? I honestly believed that it had been for real and I had been so scared, even more scared than when my parents had been killed, as I now knew exactly what was coming after me!

I had been with Pops about a week when he had called me over to sit with him.

...+...

“Sarah Connor.”

“Yeah, Pops!”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay… Is something wrong?”

“I need to tell you some things, things that may scare you, but things that you need to know. You know what I am, don’t you?”

“You are a machine, from the future.”

“You know why I am here?”

“To protect me, Sarah Connor.”

“I am a Cyberdyne Systems T-800 Model 101 Terminator. I was designed for one purpose; to infiltrate and kill humans.”

I knew he killed, that was obvious, however, I had not known that he was built to kill humans, though. I thought he killed to protect, oh well, now I knew. I was no longer smiling.

“Terminators are evil,” Pops continued. “I am a Terminator, but I have been reprogrammed to protect Sarah Connor.”

“So you've said.”

“It is important that you live, Sarah Connor.”

“So you keep saying, but I have no idea why.”

“You are too young for me to explain that now. I need to make sure that you know what is ahead of you. I need to prepare you. I do not mean to scare you, but I must make you aware. A Terminator cannot be bargained with, it cannot be reasoned with, and it does not feel pity or remorse. It will not stop until you are dead.”

“Can you stop them?”

“I will do everything within my capabilities to protect you, Sarah Connor.”

...+...

I thought back to that moment.

This was all part of his plan. Tests were how you ensured that people were ready for something. I knew that everything The Guardian did was to server one purpose, to protect me. I had had no good reason to freak out, as I had the night before.

Pops was just doing everything he could to protect me. I would just have to get used to his methods, which while alien, literally, and sometimes disturbing or worrisome, they were effective. I thought back to the moment I had been shaken awake.

I had reacted well and I had dressed and been ready to go very quickly. The run through the woods, while exhausting, had been fun when you ignored the terror that I had felt at the time!

I decided to ease up on Pops; no harm no foul.

* * *

 

**_December 24 th_ **

Pops was doing everything he could to make things happy for me.

He drew the line, however, at wearing a Santa hat! I had outgrown ‘Santa Claus’ some years before, so I would not be waiting for him to come down the chimney. Which was probably a good idea, as Pops would have just blown him apart with his M60 machine gun and please do not ask where he got that!

I also had the distinct feeling that Pops was getting annoyed with my singing Christmas songs! I was also playing them on a small record player that we had. There were an awesome pair of singles, which I adored: ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ by Slade and ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’ by Wizzard.

Now, Pops regularly complained about my music, although I said it was his fault as he kept buying me singles for the record player. I wanted a compact tape player, but Pops said that they were too expensive. My single collection was quite extensive as Pops said that music was good for my morale. I had no complaints and I had several number one songs, including Carly Simon – ‘You’re so vain’, Elton John – ‘Crocodile rock’ and some Stevie Wonder songs. One of my favourite songs was The Carpenters – ‘Top of the world’. I had to explain the lyrics of several songs to Pops regularly and I usually just gave up, as he was a lost cause where music was concerned!

Thankfully, Pops never tried to sing although I had no idea what a singing Terminator might actually sound like. I enjoyed singing though and I embarrassed myself, regularly, with a hairbrush. That, was something that Pops just could not understand: me jumping around, listening to music and singing into a hairbrush!

I felt too excited to sleep that night, however, I reluctantly said goodnight to Pops, leaving him to his usual nocturnal vigil, and headed for bed.

* * *

 

**_December 25th_ **

I must have fallen asleep, despite my excitement, as Christmas morning soon arrived, cold and bleak, and I awoke with enough excitement to produce a nuclear explosion.

To Pops, it was just another day guarding the nine-year-old Sarah Connor, but to me it was Christmas and that meant the day was special. Hey, I am a kid! Pops was in his usual position, standing at the windows of the living room, on surveillance, and as he had explained, on a reduced power setting.

“Merry Christmas, Pops!”

“Merry Christmas, Sarah,” Pops replied.

..._...

Then he surprised me, completely, by handing me his shotgun and walking off into the kitchen. I just stood there a little surprised. He returned within a minute and my eyes went wide; I almost dropped the shotgun in shock.

Pops had just wheeled in a motorcycle; only this one was _nothing_ like the monster that Pops rode. This was _my_ size of motorcycle!

“You need to learn to ride!” Pops announced. “Honda Z-50AK4 motorcycle. It will let you get a start on two wheels.”

That should not be a problem; I could ride a pedal bike. I suppose I should have thanked Pops but I could not find words to express how I felt. Instead, I just started to cry. I ran over and hugged Pops.

“You are unhappy?” Pops queried with uncertainty in his tone.

I looked up at Pops, smiling.

“I love it!”

* * *

 

After forcing down a very fast breakfast – it is possible to eat two slices of toast in ten seconds, I bolted out of the door and around to the back of the house. I then bolted straight back inside again and went to get dressed, as it was far too cold for being outside in knickers and a t-shirt!

Suitably dressed, I returned outside and Pops showed me how the mini-motorcycle, painted in Candy Orange, worked. The motorcycle had been designed for riding by adults too and was very portable; however, it would be very useful for me to learn to ride on. Pops had also obtained a black motorcycle, open-faced helmet for me to wear.

I spent the next three hours running around in circles, zigzagging between the trees, although most of the first hour was spent on my ass! The motorcycle was not light, although Pops picked it up as if it was a piece of paper. I had bruises on my legs from where the motorcycle had fallen onto me, but I did not care, I was having way, too much fun!

..._...

Finally, Pops stopped me.

“It is time to stop, Sarah.”

“Aww, please, just one more minute?” I begged.

“No.”

“Please!” I begged, smiling as sweetly as I could.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have been monitoring your skin, and your surface temperature is dropping. You are risking hyperthermia.”

He was right; it was _not_ getting any warmer and neither was I!

..._...

It felt good to get back inside and rest in front of the fire with bare feet warming.

Pops had warmed some soup and very soon, I was warm again from the inside. I was _so_ happy I could not stop smiling and it was beginning to hurt.

Christmas was awesome!

* * *

 

**_January 31 st_ **

On New Year’s Eve, we had been invited to a party.

Pops was not sure about it, but he decided that it might help to enhance our cover in the town, and it would be very public. I knew a few kids from the town and local area, while Pops had his work colleagues. It would be good to get out of the house and speak to some ‘normal’ people for a change.

..._...

We headed down into the town and found ourselves in a large hall filled with people celebrating the end of 1973. I had met most of Pops work colleagues at least once and had spent time with their kids. Pops had given in, knowing that I needed contact with other human kids.

“Hey, Sarah! How you doing, kid?” Mike Byrd called out. Mike was almost as large as Pops and always smiled.

Mike had a son, Mark, who was ten. I could see Mark a few yards away talking with another one of my friends, ten-year-old Eric. Eric’s father was Hank Summers, who also worked with Pops.

“I’m fine Mike, good to see you!” I replied with a smile.

“She’s growing fast, Nik,” Mike said, looking at Pops as Hank appeared.

Maybe I should have mentioned that Pops has a name: Niklas Bishop, although his pals called him Nik, for short. I went by the name of Sarah Bishop, just to simplify things. All of Pops work colleagues were cool and I liked them. There were two others, Burt Day and Ryan Edwards. They both had daughters, Rachel and Stephanie, respectively, who were both ten, so I was the youngest, which sucked!

“Run along now and play!” Pops ordered. I rolled my eyes and complied, heading over to see my friends.

I was still close enough to listen to Pops’ conversation, though.

* * *

 

“She’s a great girl, Nik. You should be proud of her,” Hank commented.

“Thank you. Sarah can be a handful at times and very strong willed.”

“Aren’t they all?” Ryan said, joining the conversation.

“Boys are easier than girls, I think,” Hank commented.

“Does your daughter sing while looking into a mirror?” Pops asked innocently.

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan laughed. “It’s quite funny to watch!”

* * *

 

I cringed when I heard Pops ask that question!

“You sing into a mirror?” Mark laughed.

“What is it to you?” I demanded, feeling my face warming up.

“It’s fun; boys don’t know _how_ to have fun!” Stephanie commented.

“We do!” Eric declared. “We just don’t embarrass ourselves doing it!”

* * *

 

I knew that everybody liked Pops.

I had overheard people talking about him and it was all positive. Some thought he behaved like ‘a robot’ when he was at work, which made me laugh.

If they only knew, what he was like inside, literally...! Hank, Ryan, Burt and Mike often commented about his strength, which Pops limited, so as not to give himself away. Pops liked them too and with them, all being parents themselves, they would often give Pops advice, knowing that he looked after me on his own. There was also talk of me starting school in January, too, which I was looking forward to, I suppose.

Many thought Pops was a little strange, but they put it off to the fact that he was looking after, and bringing up, a nine-year-old girl, which many saw to be a struggle.

I was _not_ a ‘struggle’!

Pops liked to tell people that I was his life’s work, his reason for being, and I suppose I was.

..._...

I was filled with foreboding as 1974 approached.

The feelings of loss were enormous and I did everything I could to fight back the tears that were determined to fall. However, I was not going to let my friends, or Pops, for that matter, see me cry. I intended for 1974 to be the start of something new, the start of a decade that would lead me to my destiny in 1984.

So much weight for a nine-year-old girl to carry on her young shoulders.

* * *

 

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Infiltration and assimilation_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.03%_ **Endoskeleton:** _98.60%_ **Living Tissue:** _100%_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _99.92% **Power Cell 2:** 99.95% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 6 Months 18 Days 14 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _34%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE … EXCITED!_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING … EXCEEDING EXPECTATIONS_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Crying can show happiness._  
Sarah Connor enjoys Christmas.  
Sarah Connor appears tone deaf.  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Another Toaster

**_February 8 th, 1975_ **

I was eleven!

It was the second birthday that I had experienced, without my parents, and my second with Guardian. A lot has happened over the past year and a lot has changed for Pops and me.

Where do we start?

Firstly, there are now three of us – more about that later.

Secondly, I have suffered the indignities of learning about puberty from a machine, not to mention my first bra. Less said about _that_ saga the better!

Thirdly, we have been on an extended field trip, beginning the task of gathering parts that we will require for the assembly of a Time Displacement Device, for use in 1984. Apparently, you cannot just pick up a Time Displacement Device from Walmart – I checked! I have also learnt a few new phrases: ‘Time Displacement Sphere’, being among them. Otherwise, it has been a peaceful year, apart from the odd Terminator attack and having to teach Pops about the importance of human life.

Oh, yes, I also found out why Kyle Reese will be _so_ special and what we are _supposed_ to do in 1984!

* * *

 

Let us start with the first thing.

**_March 27 th, 1974_ **

About seven weeks after my tenth birthday, Pops received a message from the future.

We were sitting down eating. Well, I was eating; Pops was sitting to keep me company. He suddenly stopped talking and seemed to freeze for a minute before he looked at me.

“We have an updated mission. A file has just been unlocked in my database. We need to be at a certain location by the 27th March.”

That was two days away.

“Where?” I asked.

“The location is at 40.679975 degrees north, 117.127253 degrees west. Approximately 10.2 miles outside Battle Mountain, Nevada on a heading of 285 degrees. It will take us more than one day to get there, a distance of almost six hundred miles. We must be there for 04:45 in the morning.”

“That sounds fun!” I commented dryly.

..._...

We had loaded up the truck and then started on our long road trip. We headed north, first, to Sacramento and then northeast towards Reno. That was the easy part. The rest of the journey was northwest, through the desert. It was so hot that I had decided to forgo any modesty, at least while I was in the truck with Pops, and wore nothing but a pair of shorts, not that there was anything to see anyway! I tied my hair back into a pony tail to get it away from my neck. I so envied Pops’ ability to ignore the heat.

We had packed plenty of water, for me and the truck only, as Pops did not require any. I will admit that although the initial drive had been exciting, the novelty soon wore off and I ended up falling asleep.

We stopped a couple of times for gas. We also stopped to get some cold drinks, for me. Naturally, I needed the bathroom quite a few times on the way, which annoyed Pops no end!

“Not again, Sarah Connor!” He complained each time we stopped.

..._...

Eventually, we pulled into a small town, some fifty or so miles beyond Reno. I woke up and looked out of the window. It was getting dark as Pops pulled into a slot outside a diner. Pops looked down at me.

“You putting some clothes on or staying like that?”

I had forgotten that I was only wearing shorts! I grabbed my top and dragged it on, covering myself up. We got out and went inside. I was starving. We sat down and Pops ordered some pancakes for us both. I knew that he would eat to maintain appearances.

At the counter were some men who were rowdy and they must have been drinking, too. I did my best to ignore them while I shovelled down my pancakes.

One of the men turned and gazed at me.

“You must have got your looks from your mother, ‘cause this jerk is one _ugly_ fucker!” He said, indicating Pops.

Pops turned to the man and I suddenly felt concern for somebody’s safety.

* * *

 

**_**** LINGUISTICS DATABASE ****_ **

**_ Possible Responses _ **

_That is not very polite._  
Have you looked in a mirror recently?  
Go fuck yourself!  
Fuck you, asshole!  
Leave us alone, we are eating.

* * *

 

Pops looked at the man.

“Fuck you, asshole!”

The man looked a little stunned.

“Yeah; Fuck you, asshole!” I added with a grin. I then felt myself blushing; I had never said anything like that before!

“Fuck the both of you!” The man replied and headed outside.

“You should not have said that,” Pops commented and I scowled at him.

When we had finished eating, Pops paid the tab and we left.

As we made our way back to the truck, the man from earlier, along with his three friends, ambled towards us.

* * *

 

****** THREAT LEVEL INCREASE ******

**_MODE CHANGE FROM_ ** _SURVEILLANCE **TO** DEFENSIVE_

****** PROTECT SARAH CONNOR ******

* * *

 

“You insulted me mother-fucker, and you’re gonna fucking pay!”

“We are leaving, stay out of our way,” Pops replied. “You are intoxicated.”

“Fuck that; I want payback!”

The man started prodding Pops in the chest. I groaned; this was _not_ going to end well. Pops shoved the man backwards and started moving towards the truck, keeping himself between the men and me.

Then the man escalated things as he drew a pistol and waved it at Pops.

* * *

 

****** THREAT LEVEL INCREASE ******

**_MODE CHANGE FROM_ ** _DEFENSIVE **TO** OFFENSIVE_

**_** TARGETS IDENTIFIED **_ **

** STRATEGY SELECTED  
** _IMMEDIATE TERMINATION AND DETERRENCE_

****** PROTECT SARAH CONNOR ******

* * *

 

Pops then reached inside his jacket and pulled out his Colt .45 pistol.

I hid behind a car and watched things unfold. First, the man snapped off a couple of shots at Pops, but missed. Then Pops just went haywire and blew apart the man’s head with a single shot before striding towards the other men who had begun to scatter.

I yelled after Pops to stop, but he ignored me, or plain did not hear me. The large Colt boomed three more times and I ran towards the truck and climbed in as Pops did the same, shoving his pistol back inside his jacket.

He started the engine and shoved the truck into gear before accelerating away, fast.

* * *

 

****** THREAT LEVEL REDUCED ****  
**** STRATEGIC UPDATE ******

**_MODE CHANGE FROM_ ** _OFFENSIVE **TO** SURVEILLANCE_

**_TARGETS TERMINATED_ ** _ONE_

**_ROUNDS EXPENDED_ ** _FOUR_

****** ALL CLEAR ****  
**** SARAH CONNOR SAFE ******

* * *

 

I was totally, stunned by what I had just witnessed.

I had just seen Pops do what he was designed to do; he had just killed four men in cold-blood. It was another half-hour before I was able to speak again; I was so shocked.

“Pops! Stop the truck!”

Pops stopped the truck and I jumped out. I began gazing up at the stars until I felt Pops standing behind me; I turned to look up at him.

“Listen to me, very carefully, okay? You're not a Terminator any more. All right? You got that? You can't just go around killing people!”

“Why?”

“Whattaya mean, _why_? ‘Cause you can’t!”

“Why?”

“You just can’t okay? Trust me on this.”

“I only use appropriate force.”

“You shot four men, tonight!” I yelled at him.

“Correction, Sarah Connor, I shot one man.”

“You fired four times. You telling me you missed?” I asked dubiously.

“On purpose. The first man was self-defence. Killing the other three would have been counter-productive to the success of our mission.”

I decided that it was pointless to argue, although I was _so_ mad that I craved an argument, but I knew that it was not the right moment. We climbed back into the truck and Pops continued driving. I refused to look at him and tried to get to sleep, but all I could see was Pops terminating those men. The images played repeatedly in my mind.

I ended up stripping again as it was so hot.

..._...

Since leaving the house, we had been travelling for almost twenty hours.

We finally arrived at the base of North Peak. Pops said that we could drive most of the way towards the peak, but the final mile or two would have be on foot. The only good thing was that while it was dark, it was cooler, which meant that I could put my clothes back on again. I was desperate for a shower and I felt really, really, yucky with all the sweat.

“Pops, can Terminators smell?” I asked tentatively.

“Enough to know that you need a shower.”

“Great, just great!”

Pops drove with the lights off for security, using his night-vision capabilities that I had learnt about some time previously. There was still a lot for me to learn about Terminators and their capabilities, however, Pops refused to detail everything that he was capable of and I had a feeling that was for security reasons.

* * *

 

**40.679975 degrees north, 117.127253 degrees west**

I will admit that I felt a little stupid standing on the side of a mountain, in the dark, just looking around.

The place was desolate and a little chilly, if I was honest. Pops was gazing around the horizon, scanning for anything that moved. Pops insisted that something would happen and bang on 04:45 there was a strange, crackling sensation in the air, a little like the onset of a violent thunderstorm. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and for some reason I felt scared and stood closer to Pops.

“There is nothing to fear, Sarah Connor,” Pops said correctly interpreting my closeness.

There!

Suddenly, I could see what could only be described as lightening that seemed to hover above a small clearing on the mountainside. The lightening was blue in colour and it seemed to originate from a central point, and as it increased, there was a breeze, which blew sand and loose vegetation around. I put Pops between whatever, was happening, and me; I felt safer.

Then there was a clap like thunder and a large, blue, flashing sphere grew out of out of nowhere, and the lightening began to subside.

“It is a Time Displacement Sphere,” Pops said.

“A what?”

“Time travel. It is how I got here.”

As if that answered everything!

The sphere darkened and it seemed to vanish with a bright flash of what seemed like fire and we were plunged into darkness, as all lightening and illumination vanished. Pops turned on a flashlight and aimed it at where the Time Displacement thingy had been. At first, I saw nothing but a crater, maybe four feet or so across.

Then the flashlight illuminated an object and I was surprised to see bare, human skin.

..._...

The person stood up from their crouched position in the crater.

My eyes almost popped out of my head by what was illuminated in the flashlight beam.

“Err, Pops, it's a woman!”

“Your powers of observation continue to astound me, Sarah Connor!”

 I ignored him.

“She's also, err, very naked…”

“Why are you worried, she has the same equipment as you?”

“I wish! I don't have tits, I don't have hips, I don't have an ass and I don't have the, err, other stuff either. So no dice, supercomputer from the future!”

The naked woman looked at me and spoke.

“During temporal displacement, any inanimate object, or object not covered in living matter, will cause the destruction of both the traveller and the Time Displacement Equipment.”

“Oh, great!” I moaned “Another Terminator!”

The woman frowned, “How did you know?”

“Well, you talk like one for a start!”

“What are you doing here?” Pops asked, getting back to business.

* * *

 

While Pops and the woman engaged in conversation, a nasty thought occurred to me.

Things could have gone so differently if Pops had been butt naked when I had looked up from below the dock at him. I would have been looking straight at… Ewww!

“So only living skin can go through?” I queried,

“Yes,” Pops responded. “You will use a similar device with Kyle Reese in 1984."

I considered that and did not like what my mind told me.

“A butt naked Sarah Connor will be time travelling with a butt naked Kyle Reese? _Not a goddamn chance!_ Why do I get the feeling that there is more to 1984 than you are telling me?"

“There are facts that are not suitable till you are older.”

My life with Terminators is going to go in some really _strange_ directions! I decided to get back on track.

“Anyway, you trust the naked bitch?”

Pops hesitated, but only for a second before replying.

“I do. We have exchanged authentication and she can be trusted… For now.”

The naked woman was examining me, which was creepy.

“This is what we are protecting? This girl?”

“At least I'm not standing butt naked on the side of a mountain!”

“We need to talk,” Pops said, looking at the naked woman.

It occurred to me that if Pops was a normal human then he would probably have been mesmerised by the naked woman, who I had to admit had a very nice figure.

“Before we dive into any further conversation can she _please_ put some clothes on? Her standing there with her hands on her hips like that, its freaking me out!” 

There are some things in life that you should be able to unsee!

* * *

 

After Pops lent the woman his leather jacket, we proceeded to walk back down the mountain towards the truck.

“What is your designation?” Pops asked the new arrival.

“Cameron.”

“Cameron?” I asked. “You have a proper name?”

“As do you, Sarah Connor.”

“But, aren’t you a Terminator? I thought Terminators did not have names; at least he didn’t.”

“The mission required it, so I was provided with one.”

Cameron had a rather snarky tone, but she seemed likeable, at least as much as you can like a machine!

“So, what is she going to be, my mother?” I asked Pops.

“Cameron will take on the role of your sister. That would provide the best cover.

“What is your mission?” I asked Cameron.

“My mission is the protection of Sarah Connor.”

I kept my distance from ‘Cameron’ as we headed back down the mountain and enjoyed the walk. Once back at the truck I sat in the middle seat, sitting as close to Pops as was possible and decided to keep my clothes on and put up with the heat as the sun came up.

* * *

 

The trip back home was long and we bypassed the town where Pops had gone berserk.

I still had to stop to use the bathroom and to eat. Thankfully, Cameron now had clothes to wear, so I do not have to look at... Never mind! Cameron was then able to join Pops and me when we ate. I noticed that she ate, as Pops did.

The last portion of the trip was the worst as it was tremendously hot and I ended up sleeping for most of it until I was woken up as Pops nudged me after we had arrived back home.

* * *

 

**_The House_ **

We gave Cameron a bedroom, despite her comments of, ‘I don’t sleep’.

Pops has provided Cameron with a Browning nine-millimetre pistol and a pump-action shotgun. They both intend to stand on guard at night, in a different part of the house. Pops had given Cameron a rundown of the rules that we both followed.

Afterwards, I gave Cameron a rundown of _my_ rules. Another toaster was just what I did _not_ need; I was still getting used to the one that I already had!

“No walking around butt-naked. No talking about my underwear or personal development. No doing anything weird in public that might embarrass me. Pops is in charge and I will follow his instructions over yours. Given a choice, I’d rather lose you, than Pops. I reserve the right to come up with more rules.”

“Is that all?” Cameron asked with an exasperated tone. Apparently, Cameron was a little better at emotions and therefore blending in, than Pops was.

“Oh, one more thing, Cameron – stay away from the squirrels!”

* * *

 

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.03%_ **Endoskeleton:** _98.60%_ **Living Tissue:** _100%_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _99.92% **Power Cell 2:** 99.95% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 6 Months 18 Days 14 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _19%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Humans are not to be terminated._  
Sarah Connor is upset by naked Terminators.  
Model 715 is now available for protection.

* * *

 

**_T-800 Series (Model 715) v1.08_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.98%_ **Endoskeleton:** _99.99%_ **Living Tissue:** _99.98% [Regenerating]_

**_Power Cell:_ ** _99.99% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 11 Months 30 Days 2 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _UNKNOWN – MORE INFORMATION REQUIRED_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Do not walk around without clothes._  
Do not talk about Sarah Connor's underwear or her personal development.  
Do not do anything weird in public that might embarrass Sarah Connor.  
Sarah Connor will respond to Model 101’s orders above my own.  
Sarah Connor has developed an attachment to Model 101.  
Do not touch the squirrels (reasons currently unknown).


	8. The Time Displacement Device

For now, I am going to skip the second thing, but I will come back to that later!

The Time Displacement Device – or ‘time-machine’, as I preferred to call it as that sounded much more ‘far out’. For some reason that was a phrase, which Pops seemed to hate, however, that was cool so I kept using it! From a basic point of view, mine, the plan was to build a functioning Time Displacement Device or TDD. Pops had an enormous shopping list consisting of well over three thousand individual items, all of which would be required if we to be successful. It would take us a few years to gather the required parts and then even more time to build the device.

All the plans were ‘stored in my files’, as Pops referred to them. I was slightly concerned, however, how parts from 1974 could be used to build a device from fifty or so years in the future! Pops assured me it was possible and that we had ten years to complete the job; I just had to trust him.

**_May 1974_ **

I was having a lot of fun the first week in May. 

It was ‘windup the dumb robots from the future’ week. Although I might just have gone a tiny bit too far!  Every time I went into another room, I would say to Pops or Cam, ‘see ya on the flip-side’. I could almost hear their central process thingys whirring away as they tried to figure it out, which was awesome! I also started to tell them both to, ‘chill’ when they complained about me or got ‘uptight’ as Terminators often did quite regularly. Pops’ response to that comment was, “I am unable to alter my temperature; my regulators keep it constant.”

Pops was regularly going on about how difficult it was going to be to gather together all of the required parts for the TDD. Anyway, I coined a new phrase based on 'keep on truckin'. I would just tell Pops to, ‘keep on terminatin’ to which Pops would reply, “That is not a word, Sarah!"

I was still working on his sense of humour. Tried to get him to smile the other day, but the result was a little disturbing and it was mirror crackingly bad!

Had a little trouble explaining to Pops and Cameron why us mere mortals called things we _liked_ , ‘bad’; in the end I just told Pops to, ‘keep on terminatin’. Unfortunately, Pops must have asked his work dudes to explain things and they taught him some new words and phrases! He actually told me to ‘close the shades’, the other day while I was telling him something, which meant, ‘shut up’ and that annoyed me as it was just plain rude.

Pops has also started to use the term, ‘crazy man’, but in completely the wrong places, which was kind of humiliating when we were in the town! As for Cameron, she has started using the phrases too; only she uses them in, mostly, the right places and is not as much of an embarrassment as Pops can be when we’re out in public! I actually called him a ‘dork’, the other day and later on that day, he responded, “Take a chill pill, turkey!”

I had no comeback to that.

I also tried to teach Pops how to 'gimme five'; my hand hurt for hours. Although, I think he did that on purpose, as I was starting to believe that Terminators were capable of getting annoyed. I think my laughing at him did not exactly help, either.

Finally, Pops had had enough and he came home with something new; a roll of fabric tape. Within minutes, I found myself taped to a chair. Arms, legs, the works. Before I could say, “Not cool, dude!” Cameron had placed a piece of tape across my mouth to finish the job.

I was steaming, with both anger and humiliation. They left me like that for an hour before Pops cut the tape away and he promised me that he would repeat the exercise if I did not stop trying to be a ‘goof’!

It turns out that Pops knows when I am trying to be too clever for my own good, or if I'm trying to con him. As for rolling my eyes, he says I should keep practicing, as I was getting good at it! I had not realised he had noticed me doing that and now he reacts to my exasperation, but I decided that it was an improvement.

Even so, every time Pops thought I was misbehaving he would produce the roll of tape and I would instantly emulate the perfect little girl.

* * *

 

After quite a few weeks, I was now a reasonably good shot, with the help of Pops.

He helped me to aim. He held the weapon and guided it onto the target. My biggest problem had been holding the weapon and absorbing the recoil at the same time. My hands were small and my muscles sucked. I was working on the muscles; however, my body would grow in its own time.

I enjoyed our trips to the cabin and I was pleased that no more harmless squirrels had been ‘terminated’. Pops just tended to growl at the creatures now, which was much better than being squished. As for Cameron, she has kept to herself and we did not really talk much, although she does listen, or seems to. I am still trying to figure her out. She looks harmless, being a girl and all, but Pops explained to me that she has much the same capabilities as him, although a little more up to date. Pops also said that Cameron has some more advanced programming to allow her to infiltrate better. I figured that was why she was not as awkward as Pops around people.

I also noticed something else; Pops’ work buddies liked Cameron – now that was a shocker!

* * *

 

For the first time I was able to ride with Pops... On my own motorcycle!

After a few months of using the mini motorcycle, Pops upgraded me to a Yamaha GT80 motorcycle in red. The machine was fitted with off-road tyres so I could scramble around at the lodge. I loved the freedom of being out on my own and rushing through the trees. Pops would sometimes follow on his Harley and once or twice, we were joined by Cameron on her blue Honda CL200 scrambler. My learning to ride had not been without its pitfalls, however.

I had collected numerous bruises and scratches over the preceding weeks, some of which were still plainly evident on my body. There had also been plenty of tears and I missed having somebody to tend my wounds and say soothing things to stop my tears. Each time I tended to my own wounds, or I was helped by Pops or Cameron, it brought back memories of what I had lost and while I was too shy to cry in front of Pops or Cameron, I would usually have a bad night.

I knew Pops was aware of those bad nights as he would often appear at my doorway, but he would never enter when I was crying. Sometimes he would ask if I was all right and I would always say that I was. The following day, though, he would gauge my mood and either keep me busy or give me my space. If he kept me busy, he would choose hard work or fun work.

How he figured which of these options to choose, I had no idea; nevertheless, he was always correct.

* * *

 

**_June 1974_ **

We were in upstate Illinois, thousands of miles away from home.

One of many unique items, which we needed, could only be obtained there. So far, we had fourteen of the required items, safely stored for the TDD. Fourteen out of over _three-thousand_! It was daunting, the sheer quantity of items that we had yet to obtain.

This was the first trip, with the three of us and it had been _long_! We had left home and driven via Las Vegas, Denver, Kansas City, St Louis and then finally to our destination, Chicago.

Pops had found himself in several fights in Utah, Colorado and Missouri. However, he seemed to have taken what I said previously to ‘heart’ and there were now several men with leg wounds in the hospitals! I had shouted at Pops, telling him that he should not have shot them, but he had just turned to me and said simply, “They are alive!”

I could not argue with that; I had told him not to kill and he had not killed. I had warned Cameron about the not killing part, but she had not felt the need to intervene in the fight. I think she enjoyed watching Pops control the situation. I do not know why, but Pops just seemed to attract trouble, like a moth to a light.

We, or rather I, slept in motels and sometimes in the truck. To make things less cramped, Cameron was driving and Pops was on his motorcycle. I would take turns riding in the truck, or on the motorcycle with Pops, depending on the weather. At St Louis, we separated. Pops and I took the truck, while Cameron took the Harley and she headed for Indianapolis after some another TDD parts.

We would meet up again in Chicago in a few days.

* * *

 

Pops had warned me to be on the lookout for trouble.

He explained that it was possible for the T1000, or indeed any other Terminators, to work out that we might be building a TDD and some of the components were so unique that we could be heading into traps or ambushes.

“How would they guess we were building a TDD?” I had asked. “Why do you think they would?”

I found the reply chilling.

“I would!”

I had no idea what I was supposed to be looking for. The T-1000 could change and blend in. I could see him twice without knowing it and he could look different both times. Even another T-800 would be impossible to recognise. Having seen Cameron, I now knew that Terminators came in different shapes and sizes, which made things so much harder.

Was I scared? Damn right I was!

* * *

 

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.00%_ **Endoskeleton:** _98.33%_ **Living Tissue:** _100%_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _99.91% **Power Cell 2:** 99.93% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 8 Months 12 Days 4 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _39%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING_

**_ Additional Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary:_ ** _Procure Components for TDD **Current Status:** 14 of 3,147 Components Procured_

**_Secondary:_ ** _Assemble Time Displacement Device **Current Status:** NOT STARTED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Sarah Connor does not like people to see her cry._

**_T-800 Series (Model 715) v1.08_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _99.97%_ **Endoskeleton:** _99.99%_ **Living Tissue:** _100%_

**_Power Cell:_ ** _99.99% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 8 Months 30 Days 2 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _39%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE_

**_ Additional Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary:_ ** _Procure Components for TDD **Current Status:** 14 of 3,147 Components Procured_

**_Secondary:_ ** _Assemble Time Displacement Device **Current Status:** NOT STARTED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Sarah Connor is lonely and misses her parents._

 


	9. Cameron

**_June 1974_ **

**_Chicago_ **

My parents had brought me up not to swear.

However, now seemed the right time to start!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shouted to nobody in particular as I emptied the ten-round magazine of the Sterling Mk7 towards the ‘thing’.

Each bullet seemed to strike the target, but the bullet hole would turn silver and seem to absorb the bullet before a silver substance would fill the hole and seconds later – no bullet hole!

I switched out the magazine for a larger, thirty-four round one and fired again, this time on full automatic. The T-1000 hesitated with each bullet as it absorbed the energy of impact. I was now very thankful for the training that Pops had forced upon me. Even that night of hell running for what at the time, I thought was for my life. I was shaking with fear and my face was wet with tears but thankfully, I had not pissed myself – not yet!

As I inserted my third magazine, the T-1000 was only a dozen yards away, when I heard six large cracks and the T-1000 froze and then collapsed to the ground. Behind him, stood Cameron and she held an enormous pistol that I recognised instantly as a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum Model 29-2 with the six and a half inch barrel. She was emptying out the empty cartridges and inserting six fresh rounds.

“Move – we have less than a minute before he reactivates...” She said. I jogged alongside her as she walked at a fast pace.

There was no sign of Pops; not since he had been blasted through the wall by the T-1000; I was worried.

* * *

 

****** THREAT LEVEL CHANGE ******

**_MODE CHANGE FROM_ ** _OFFENSIVE **TO** DEFENSIVE_

**_STATUS OF T-800 (Model 101):_ ** _UNKNOWN – POSSIBLY TERMINATED_

**_ESTIMATED TIME TO T-1000 REACTIVATION:_ ** _32 SECONDS_

** STRATEGY SELECTED  
** _RELOCATION OF SARAH CONNOR_

****** PROTECT SARAH CONNOR ******

* * *

 

Cameron seized me by my collar and dumped me onto the back of Pops’ motorcycle.

She started the engine and we accelerated away from the area. I knew that Cameron was following her programming to protect me, but we were leaving Pops.

Was he dead? Was he hurt? Did he need help?

The tears began to fall in a constant stream.

They were no longer tears of fear but of intense sadness.

* * *

 

**_Four days earlier_ **

After we had arrived in Chicago, Pops had left me in the motel room, while he went to check out the area.

I sat on the bed, with my Sterling Mk7 pointed at the door. Beside me on the bed lay a spare magazine for the Sterling, plus a bag with two more loaded magazines. Hanging from my left side was my Walther PPK pistol. I wore a heavily customised shoulder holster that allowed the pistol to hang to my left and I had two spare magazines on my right side. The rig was heavy to wear, but I was getting used to it. Over the rig, I wore my leather jacket, which covered the bulky pistol and magazines.

I was under orders to shoot anything that opened the door without the correct codeword. I was a little scared, but I had done this several times before. The Sterling was loaded and the ten-round magazine would empty in seconds, immolating anybody who attempted to hurt me.

It occurred to me that it might take a little more than a few dozen bullets to destroy a T-1000, but it was all I had, at least when I was alone.

* * *

 

I must have dozed off as I woke up with a jolt as I heard banging on the door.

I gripped the Sterling tightly and called out.

“Go away!”

“Buttercup!”

I lowered the Sterling, just a little, then reached for the door handle and turned the lock. The door was pushed open – it was Pops.

“You seem to be tired, Sarah.”

“I am. I must have fallen asleep, sorry.”

“I have some food for you.”

“That would help,” I commented with a grin.

..._...

After eating a large cheeseburger and some fries, I felt a lot more human.

This was repeated each day for the next three days, until Cameron returned, with another TDD component. She handed it to me; it was circular and was very smooth, but cold to the touch. Pops had a fancy name for the material, but I cannot pronounce it. Apparently, it was very rare.

Unfortunately, its rarity went against us!

* * *

 

Awkward!

That was the only word that could describe the Thursday of the second week in June.

The three of us were in a motel room, near Lake Michigan, when Pops sat down on the bed. I was lying on the bed reading a gun magazine – I have had to alter my reading habits to keep up with Pops’ training regime. I sometimes get strange looks when people see me, a young girl, reading gun magazines. I just tell them I am from Texas.

“Sarah,” Pops began. “It is time to tell you about things that are going to be happening to you that are important for the mission.”

Somehow, I did not like the sound of that.

“Your human body is going to be changing...”

As I felt my face starting to warm up, I slid off the bed and headed for the door.

“I’m outta here...”

I got barely two feet before Pops placed a roll of tape on the bed and Cameron stood in front of the door. I was trapped – I knew that if I did not sit back down then I was going to be stuck down with Pops’ tape!

I sat back down on the bed.

“So what has my body got to do with anything?” I asked, trying to ignore the embarrassment that I felt.

“Your body must undergo changes to allow you to properly integrate with Kyle Reese at the appropriate time,” Pops explained. “Your sexual development is crucial to the mission.”

Now I felt my face exploding and it felt like it was on fire. Did Pops just say what I thought he did? God, I hoped not!

“Your body will change in ways that will result in you appearing similar to Cameron.”

I supposed that having a body like Cameron could not be a bad thing! No, I was not jealous of Cameron’s body – yeah, I wanted tits, but what girl does not!

“In 1984, you and Kyle Reese will be required to mate. That means...”

I felt my eyes almost popping out of my head.

“Yeah, yeah – I know what that means!” I called out in desperation, stopping Pops and putting my hands over my ears.

Once I had lowered my hands, Pops continued.

“Kyle Reese will insert his p...”

“Stop!” I yelled. “I know what bit goes in where and it’s not for a good few years, so can we ease up on the detail and graphic references?”

“I need to be sure that you know what is going to be happening. It is crucial to your development and training over the next few years.”

“Could you two look up the words, ‘embarrassment’ and ‘extreme’, in your sub-routines?” I demanded angrily.

“It is only natural for you to feel that way, Sarah, and we apologise for forcing it on you,” Cameron said, much to my surprise. Pops just frowned at her. “My programming includes additional sub-routines that allow me to understand feelings and emotions better so I can replicate them and take advantage of them.”

“I will not have other people, or machines for that matter, discussing my sexual development!” That had to be the first time in my life that I had ever used the word ‘sexual’ in a conversation.

These two machines were actually setting me up to ‘mate’ – that word was just... horrible. I was supposed to wait ten years and then just ‘mate’ with an unknown guy from the future, just like that! Naturally, my knowledge of sex (first time I’ve actually used _that_ word in a thought) was very limited, but I thought that there should be a bit more to it than that. Something told me that love was probably a requirement, but then again, I had no idea, only being ten-years-old!

“Do you have to use that word, ‘mate’?” I asked Pops.

“Would you prefer, ‘have sexual relations with’, or maybe ‘perform the act of sexual intercourse with’, or we could use ‘be fucked by Kyle Reese’?”

God, those were all worse and extreme!

“Let’s just stick with ‘mate’, for now...!”

* * *

 

**_Friday evening_ **

It was the first time that I had ever seen Pops caught out.

Maybe computers make mistakes! This time Pops made a huge one; I actually identified the T-1000 before he did. Maybe it was my human ‘sixth sense’, but something told me that the man was not what he appeared to be. Maybe the man looked at me the way he did and that clued me into his intentions. I could not explain it and I still cannot.

I pulled out my Walther and emptied the magazine into the man’s face. Instead of blood, bone and brains exploding everywhere, I just made little silver holes and Pops yelled a single word.

“Run!”

I ran.

Looking behind me, I saw Pops empty his Colt .45 into the ‘thing’. Before Pops could reload, the ‘thing’ kicked Pops in the chest, sending him flying backwards into a steel barrier. Pops bent the barrier, but leapt forwards and started fighting the T-1000.

My training kicked in and I ran as fast as my legs would take me. I reloaded the Walther while running. The street was busy and people were running in all directions; there was a lot of screaming – pussies.

Where did _that_ come from!

I dived into an alleyway looking to put as much distance between Sarah Connor and the anti-Sarah Terminator as was possible. At the other end of the alleyway, I skidded to a halt and took a moment to find out where I was.

“Sarah, run!”

I turned and saw Pops at the far end of the alleyway and still fighting with the T-1000, but from where I stood, I could see who was winning...

My last view of Pops as I turned and ran was of him being driven into a solid brick wall. The T-1000 then started to run after me. I expected Pops to be running behind, but Pops never reappeared. I had lost the race before it had even started; the T-1000 was very fast and little Sarah was very slow.

..._...

He was less than six feet from me when the T-1000 dived towards me, his right arm dissolving and forming into a long, sword-like, silver blade. Just as I felt the blade pierce my skin, there was a blur as something crashed into the T-100 sending it flying.

The T-1000 rolled into a building, sending masonry flying as it hit. I had fallen to the ground and held my right side with my left hand. I looked down and saw blood on my palm. Then I saw Cameron get up from the ground. The left side of her face was damaged; I could see silver showing through gaps in the skin.

I ran without being told.

The T-1000 struck again, sending Cameron flying. I continued running, but I was exhausted. I fell twice, allowing the T-1000 to get closer each time. Then I could not run anymore and I fell against a dumpster.

I pulled out my Sterling Mk7, racked back the cocking lever and then pulled the trigger ten times.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

* * *

 

**_T-800 Series (Model 715) v1.08_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _97.14%_ **Endoskeleton:** _99.81%_ **Living Tissue:** _91% (Regenerating)_

**_Power Cell:_ ** _99.82% **Remaining Life:** 119 Years 7 Months 28 Days 5 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _88%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE - WOUNDED_

**_ Additional Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary:_ ** _Procure Components for TDD **Current Status:** 19 of 3,147 Components Procured_

**_Secondary:_ ** _Assemble Time Displacement Device **Current Status:** NOT STARTED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_T-800 (Model 101) believed to be terminated._

 


	10. Alone

**_June 1974_ **

**_Chicago_ **

I had never felt more alone that at that moment.

The more distance that we put between Pops and me was heart wrenching. We were on a road, heading west, but we were not alone. I soon heard the squeal of tyres and looked behind me; it was a car and it was careering through the traffic at speed.

Pops! For just a moment, I felt happiness, but only for a second as I saw whom, or rather what, was driving the car... It was the T-1000 and he did _not_ look happy. He came closer to use and I was certain that he was intent on ramming us off the road. Cameron accelerated and slowed down randomly; trying to move out of the way each time the T-1000 swung the car towards us.

“Shoot him!” Cameron shouted.

I pulled out my Walther and twisted around on the motorcycle, keeping one hand wrapped around Cameron. I started to fire at the T-1000 with single shots. I tried to gauge how the car was moving so I could be certain of a strike, as I had very limited ammunition remaining. I managed to put one bullet through his windshield and two more into the car’s radiator. None hit the T-1000, which sucked! The adrenalin that surged through me stopped me worrying about my wound, which had stopped bleeding, but it still hurt.

We careered down the street avoiding other cars and people trying to get out of the way of flying bullets. The T-1000 was firing indiscriminately, oblivious of collateral damage; all he cared about was killing me.

A Police Cruiser appeared and attempted to head off the other Terminator, but it was rammed out of the way. The scene was total pandemonium – big word, not sure _where_ , I got that from! Then he was right there, just two feet from the back of the motorcycle. I was sure that I could feel the heat from the car’s engine as it raced at high revs.

The car struck the back wheel and the large motorcycle lurched. Cameron fought to keep control as we were struck again before she turned right into another street and opened up the throttle, putting distance between the T-1000 and us. Only it was not long before the car caught up again and something told me that we were going to crash. Cameron must have figured it out too.

Just as the T-1000 rammed the rear wheel with his car and the Harley Davidson motorcycle started to tip, I felt Cameron reach backwards and grab me. Cameron pulled me in front of her and shielded me as we hit the road. We came to a halt in a ball, with me on the inside.

“Are you alive, Sarah Connor?” Cameron demanded as she got up.

“Yes...”

I was bruised and shocked, but alive and surprisingly in one piece. I could see the T-1000 a dozen yards away, turning in his seat to see if I was alive. He just looked at me, willing me to die right there!

“Run!” Cameron yelled, pushing me down a side street.

Things were _not_ good. I was really, really, scared; I was out of ammunition and my pistol was resting in its holster, empty. My Sterling Mk7 lay in the bag on my back, again empty.

The T-1000 had the upper hand and it knew it...

* * *

 

****_CYBERDYNE SYSTEMS  
SERIES 800 MODEL 101  
VERSION 2.4.2_

**_INITIALISING . . ._ **

**_LOADING DIAGNOSTIC SUB-ROUTINE . . ._ **

**_RE-ROUTING DAMAGED SYSTEMS . . ._ **

**_LOADING MISSION PARAMETERS . . ._ **

* * *

 

I ran as hard as I could, but I was tired, so tired and my side hurt more and more.

“You will not get her...” I heard Cameron yell out as she raised her .45-calibre M1911 and blasted away at the T-1000.

Each bullet caused the Terminator to slow and stagger, but only for a second as it healed itself before continuing forwards. Cameron was swapping out magazines as fast as she could, backing away from the advancing Terminator. The Terminator was firing his own weapon, a beefy looking Colt CAR-15 Carbine. Dozens of bullets were being sent towards us both, several hitting Cameron who kept herself in the line of fire between the T-1000 and me.

I heard Cameron yell out again, “Sarah, get down!”

I turned and saw the T-1000 aiming his carbine away from me; I followed his aim and saw a large cage full of gas cylinders, not a dozen yards away from me. He emptied an entire magazine into them as I threw myself flat on the floor just as the gas was ignited and there was a huge explosion.

I felt the searing heat on my back as I forced my face into the concrete and held my arms across the back of my head. I screamed as I felt something hot dig deep into my left thigh. Once the heat had passed, I jumped up, but stumbled and fell, reaching down to my leg. I saw the bright red blood on my hands and felt the pain growing in my thigh. I saw the jagged piece of metal protruding from my side.

The alleyway was covered in flames, blocking it. I saw Cameron lying on the concrete, just a few yards from me. She looked up, looked me over and instantly jumped to her feet. We were separated from the T-1000 by the flames. For a moment I thought that we had made it, that we were safe, but as I got back to my feet, I saw movement and a shimmering silver shape appeared through the flames.

“No!” I yelled out in sheer desperation; the T-1000 was unstoppable.

Cameron started shooting again before inserting her last magazine. I fell back to my knees, tears pouring unimpeded down my face; it was hopeless.

After everything, I was going to die...

Moreover, with me would go all hope for the Human Race; Sky Net had won!

* * *

 

****** TACTICAL UPDATE ******

****** _SITUATION UNTENABLE_ ******

**_CHANCE OF SURVIVAL [T-800 (Model 715)]:_ ** _8% decreasing..._

**_ESTIMATED TIME TO DEATH OF SARAH CONNOR:_ ** _1.03 Minutes_

** STRATEGY SELECTED  
** _...SEARCHING...NO SUITABLE STRATEGY AVAILABLE...SEARCHING...NO SUITABLE STRATEGY AVAILABLE...SEARCHING..._

****** _PRIMARY MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT_ ******

* * *

 

As Cameron dropped the empty and now useless pistol to the ground, she advanced towards the T-1000.

Cameron would not stand a chance; the T-1000 would tear her apart... Just as everything was about to end, there was a violent flash from behind me and I heard a loud voice just before the RPG rocketed from across the street at the end of the alleyway and exploded on contact with the T-1000.

“Hasta, la vista!”

I could not believe my ears... That voice... Was it real, or just a figment of my imagination? I had no chance to find out as Cameron dragged me down another alleyway.

I started to feel hope.

* * *

 

****** THREAT LEVEL CHANGE ******

**_MODE CHANGE FROM_ ** _OFFENSIVE **TO** EVASION_

**_CHANCE OF SURVIVAL [T-800 (Model 715)]:_ ** _92% increasing..._

**_ESTIMATED TIME TO DEATH OF SARAH CONNOR:_ ** _UNKNOWN_

**_STATUS OF T-800 (Model 101):_ ** _UNKNOWN – VOICE MATCH – VERIFIED_

** STRATEGY SELECTED  
** _RELOCATION OF SARAH CONNOR_

****** PROTECT SARAH CONNOR ******

* * *

 

I was not running this time.

My feet barely touched the ground as Cameron ran with her arm around my waist. I was feeling weak and very tired, but I knew I had to remain conscious. I tried to ignore the searing pain in my right side and my left thigh, but it was all getting too much for me...

The next few seconds were a blur. Cameron deposited me on the sidewalk where I fell to my ass as the truck skidded to a halt and _he_ climbed out. He turned to me and smiled – at least he tried to!

“I’m back!”

* * *

 

I just stared.

I could not believe my eyes... Was I dreaming? Could he be real? I did not wait to find out but got up and ran – yes _ran_ – at him and jumped into his arms, holding him as tight as I could; I knew it was impossible for _me_ to break him!

“That’s a meaningless gesture,” Pops said. “Why hold onto someone you must let go?”

“It isn’t ‘meaningless’ to me, Pops.”

Tears of joy were pouring down my face, but I did not care. I did my best to ignore the damage to his face; I could see lots of silver, mostly on his left side. I must have clung to him for an age, but Pops just stood there and I refused to let him go.

“Sarah...” he began.

“Thank you...” I began before I dissolved into tears again.

It started to sink in that Pops was _not_ , the indestructible robot that I thought he was, far from it! He was damaged, not badly, but he was damaged. I never thought that Pops could be damaged – that shocked me and scared me at the same time.

“How did you find me?” I asked finally.

“I am programmed to find people. I may not be intending to terminate you, but I still have the required sub-routines that allow me to search for you.”

“Good enough!” I replied with a grin.

“You are hurt, Sarah...”

“I’ve had worse!” I replied, trying to be brave.

“We need to leave the area!” Pops ordered and we all quickly jumped into the truck.

Pops floored the accelerator and the truck leapt forwards. We headed north-west, out of the city. Once we were several miles past the city limits, Pops eased off the speed to reduce the chances of us being stopped by the Cops before stopping in some woods.

I turned to Cameron.

“Cameron, Thank you,” I said with a genuine smile.

I had not been happy with Cameron joining our little team and I did not treat her all that well, either. Now though, she had risked her very existence to protect me, just as Pops had. I resolved to be a lot nicer to her in future. Cameron did not reply but she did nod in response. There was a lot of damage to her skin and I could see bullet holes in her clothes.

While Cameron stood guard with a shotgun, Pops gently checked out my wounds. First came the wound on my side. That was just a puncture wound from the T-1000. Pops cleaned it, ignoring my tears from the pain and placed a large dressing over it. Next came my thigh, which was throbbing painfully, especially now that the adrenalin was wearing off. Pops cut away my jeans, which were sodden with blood and sweat. I was shaking as Pops sized hold of the jagged piece of metal.

“This is going to hurt...” Pops warned.

I was sobbing with the pain and could not respond. Pops told me to grip the side of the truck while he eased out the piece of metal. I did as I was told, bracing myself for the pain that I knew would come.

I must have passed out with the pain as when I awoke, I was lying on a bed with a dressing wrapped tightly around my thigh. Pops was there and he told me that after three hours driving, we had pulled over at a truck stop, near Dixon.

There was a dull throbbing coming from my thigh, but the pain was tolerable. I saw that both Pops and Cameron had covered over their own wounds with sticking plasters and dressings.

“Will your skin heal?” I asked. “You two are no good if you can’t pass for human!”

“We will heal in time, just as you will,” Cameron answered.

Despite the trouble with the T-1000, we had acquired five more components for the time travel device. We were all still in the game, but it had come very close to the end.

Sky Net would _not_ win – _not_ while I was still alive and _not_ while I still had Pops and Cameron watching over me.

* * *

 

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Evasion_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _77.00%_ **Endoskeleton:** _94.71%_ **Living Tissue:** _83% (Regenerating)_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _97.01% **Power Cell 2:** 98.77% **Remaining Life:** 117 Years 5 Months 18 Days 7 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _67%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE - WOUNDED_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING_

**_ Additional Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary:_ ** _Procure Components for TDD **Current Status:** 19 of 3,147 Components Procured_

**_Secondary:_ ** _Assemble Time Displacement Device **Current Status:** NOT STARTED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Sarah Connor has emotional attachment to T-800 (Model 101)._

* * *

 

**_T-800 Series (Model 715) v1.08_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Evasion_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _87.00%_ **Endoskeleton:** _95.86%_ **Living Tissue:** _78% (Regenerating)_

**_Power Cell:_ ** _97.13% **Remaining Life:** 116 Years 6 Months 8 Days 12 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _67%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE - WOUNDED_

**_ Additional Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary:_ ** _Procure Components for TDD **Current Status:** 19 of 3,147 Components Procured_

**_Secondary:_ ** _Assemble Time Displacement Device **Current Status:** NOT STARTED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_T-800 (Model 101) status update – change terminated to on-line._

_Sarah Connor has emotional attachment to T-800 (Model 101)._

 

 

 


	11. Healing

**_June 1974_ **

Healing was going to take time for all of us.

I was never so happy to be back home and finally to be able to sink into my own bed after a relaxing hot bath. The bath had not been fun initially, though, as the hot water had stung my wounds and had made me scream. That, of course, had brought Pops running! Once I had assured him that I was okay, I had been able to relax.

I was covered in cuts and bruises, not to mention the two larger wounds; my body was a mess. Even my muscles were sore and despite the two days on the road, they were still sore. When I got back to my bedroom, I found that somebody had laid out some clean pyjamas for me; I assumed it was Cameron. Once in bed, both came to say goodnight and then they went to their normal overnight posts, continuing their vigil and keeping me safe.

We stayed inside for the next month, while everybody’s skin healed. I say ‘skin’, as technically the Terminators were not wounded, just damaged. They had both spent time running ‘diagnostic sub-routines’ to ensure that they were both in full working order.

..._...

Once that month was past and I had healed; I had my own ‘diagnostic sub-routines’, which involved running around the outside of the house and keeping myself fit.

If the attack in Chicago had done nothing else, it had heightened my understanding of how important it was for me to live and that my life would be in constant danger, possibly forever.

What a load for an eleven-year-old girl to carry around on her shoulders!

During that month of taking things gently, I had relived the fight in Chicago many times. I had examined what I had done wrong and run through various other options with my Terminator friends. Hindsight is a wonderful thing; I intended to use it to learn so that I could defend myself better when the next attack came.

Note I used the word ‘when’, not ‘if’. The T-1000 was incredibly advanced and it had found us in Chicago. While I hoped it was dead; I knew it was not. It would be out there, somewhere, searching, never stopping.

* * *

 

**_25th May 1977_ **

Time had moved on – 1984 was only seven short years away.

I was thirteen – a teenager, yay! Interestingly, both Cameron and Pops agreed that there were going to be some rocky days ahead. I knew that being a teenager was going to be hard. That day, in fact, was a case in point.

..._...

“What are  _yo_ u doing here?”

“Little girls who won't behave; they need protecting.”

There was little point in arguing, as I was not even supposed to be out of the house, let alone twenty miles away. Mind you, I hated being referred to a as a ‘little girl’!

“You coming in?” I asked, changing the subject and indicating the movie theatre behind me.

Annoyingly, Pops held up a ticket.

“Great!”

..._...

It was not really my kind of film; however, the reviews had been varied though there were some good ones, too.  I figured that I might as well get into science fiction, considering that the huge man sitting next to me was in fact, science fact and from the science future.

“This is totally improbable.”

“What is?”

“This movie.”

“ _You_ are improbable, Pops. Now, if you don't shut up, so help me God, I _will_ find a way to weld your mouth shut!”

Pops never said another word as the movie began...

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far,  
far away..._

_STAR  
WARS_

_It is a period of civil war._  
Rebel spaceships, striking  
from a hidden base, have  
won their first victory  
against the evil Galactic  
Empire.

_During the battle, rebel_  
spies managed to steal  
secret plans to the Empire's  
ultimate weapon, the  
DEATH STAR, an armored  
space station with enough  
power to destroy an entire  
planet.

_Pursued by the Empire's_  
sinister agents, Princess  
Leia races home aboard her  
starship, custodian of the  
stolen plans that can save  
her people and restore  
freedom to the galaxy...

* * *

 

**_Two or so hours later_ **

“ _That was freaking awesome!_ ”

I was struggling to keep still – I had _never_ seen a movie like it. I had been hooked from the opening scene, which was – unbelievable! It just had to be the greatest movie of all time – I would love to see more, but I understood that the movie was to be a one off – shame.

“I take it you enjoyed it?”

“Hell, yeah! Harrison Ford is so... Wow!”

“Your hormones are taking control – you need to calm down before you have an org...”

“Don't you  _dare_ , say that word in public!” I interrupted hastily, looking around to ensure that nobody had heard anything.

..._...

Maybe it was my age, but those two Terminators were getting so damn embarrassing! Over the previous couple of years, there had been so many opportunities where I wished that I had real parents. I really needed a Mom, but all I had was Cameron and she sucked at being a human, she sucked at being a female – she sucked, period!

Periods!

Just _do not_ get me started on _those_ – Cameron had explained the ins and outs in _way_ too much detail. Lucky bitch does not even get them!

As for Pops – he only had one comment when they first started: “At least we now know that copulating with Kyle Reese should be successful.”

For a twelve-year-old, that comment had been pure torture and I had not spoken to Pops for most of that week! I know Pop’s attempts at smiling sucked, but he could smirk – which also sucked!

..._...

Anyway – onto another subject that is _not_ so humiliating and degrading.

Instead of the shape-shifting T-1000 plaguing us, we were now being plagued by a flesh and blood human. No, he was _not_ trying to kill us – not yet at any rate. He was FBI, which while bad, could have been so much worse. How he had latched onto us, I had no idea.

He just turned up on the doorstep one morning...

* * *

 

**_October 1975_ **

It was just after lunchtime, a Saturday and I was in the living room reading one of my gun magazines when there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” I yelled to my overbearing guardians.

I pulled open the door. It was a young man, a black man. He raised a badge up.

“Special Agent James Ellison, FBI.”

“Okay...”

“Who might you be, young lady?” He asked.

“What concern is that to you?” I countered.

“Just making polite conversation.”

“You want something; it’s cold out there?”

“You could invite me in?” The man pushed.

“I could – but I’m not going to.”

The man was running his eyes over everything that he could see.

“Well, I’ll be going then. Sorry to disturb you, bye.”

I nodded and closed the door.

“Asshole!” I growled as I turned around and then almost jumped out of my skin.

Pops was standing about six inches behind me with an enormous shotgun in his equally enormous hands.

“He’s gone – you can put that thing away – no killing, remember!”

“I remember; it is a permanent entry in my database...”

“Whatever! Just don’t hurt him, either – that would be bad for us all – he’s...”

“Federal Bureau of Investigation; we heard,” Cameron interrupted. “We may be synthetic, but we are not stupid!”

“Sorry!” I replied sarcastically, rolled my eyes, jumped back onto the couch, and went back to my magazine. “I didn’t mean to upset you!”

* * *

 

**_Four days later  
Wednesday_ **

We found out that our FBI friend had been making enquiries about Pops and me.

Luckily, for us, we had friends in the town and they liked us, so nobody was saying much. I had suggested to Pops that we go away for a while, but Pops nixed that idea saying it would give the FBI Agent reason to think we were guilty of something.

I agreed with that assumption; I just wished that I had thought of it!

* * *

 

**_Three days later  
Saturday_ **

At the weekend, we tried to go up to the lodge to see about some gun practice, but that FBI idiot was following us, so we just toured the area for a few hours in the truck, ignoring him completely.

I think we must have annoyed him, as he eventually overtook us before he headed back to the hotel where he was staying – we had done our own investigating! We had found out that he was alone, which was good as he could not follow us everywhere and forever. Pops also decided never to leave the house empty; there were one or two illegal and potentially dangerous objects hidden away and we did not want _any_ of them to be found!

* * *

 

**_May 1977_ **

Talking of illegal and dangerous objects, the time displacement thingy was coming together nicely – well the parts were.

We still had not found a suitable location to assemble the device. It would need to be in Los Angeles, but that was as far as we had for now. Cameron would vanish for days at a time in search of a suitable facility. There was also another matter to figure out.

We could not afford to leave anything behind and by that, we meant anything from the future. Everything futuristic had to be destroyed to prevent – another new phrase I learnt recently – ‘reverse engineering’.

Something else was also explained to me.

I would have to kill Pops.

Okay, it is not as bad as it sounds.

* * *

 

**_February 1976_ **

It was _cold_ in the house, despite the fires raging.

Maybe it was just me, but Pops had his own suggestion: “Your body is gaining more surface area which means heat escapes quicker.”

By that, he meant that I had boobs and my hips were spreading out giving me an ass and thighs! It was still damned embarrassing though...

One evening after I had had dinner, we sat down, Pops and me as we often did. I liked his company and I think he liked mine too, not that he indicated one way or another! Pops turned to me.

“Kyle Reese, Sergeant Techcom, serial number DN38416.”

Pops would repeat these details periodically to ensure that I had them committed to memory.

“May 12, 1984. Kyle Reese will appear in Los Angeles and he will seek you out, to protect you. We will have two terminators to destroy before we use the Time Displacement Device.”

“Two?” I asked.

“The T-1000 will be there to intercept Kyle Reese. He will know the date and he will know approximately where to pick up his trail. We must prevent the death of Kyle Reese so you can mate with him...”

I felt myself blushing furiously – again!

“Enough with _that_...”

“It is your future, Sarah.”

“We’ll worry about that when we get there, okay?”

Being twelve-years-old and being constantly reminded, that in eight years’ time, a strange man from the future will arrive and we will... Well you know... Ugh!

“There will be another Terminator there – me...”

“You?”

“A T-800 Series, Model 101. It was originally sent back to terminate Sarah Connor. We have to assume that it will still be sent back to terminate you. We know when and we know where. We just need a plan to destroy him. By then I will be ten years and nine months old – the other Terminator will be brand new.”

“You are worried that you cannot take him down?”

I hoped that I did not sound worried; but I felt it though.

“We are the same model, but I will be older and by then accumulated damage to my systems and chassis. It is logical to work out a plan that does not involve fighting.”

I had to agree, although I did not like it.

“But there is two of you,” I pointed out.

“Cameron is unable to fight a T-800, but she may not be with us by then...”

What was Pops inferring?

* * *

 

**_May 1977_ **

Maybe it was just my age, but I had started to argue with Pops over the smallest things.

There were days when I refused to get out of bed in the morning, or refused to go to bed in the evening. There were times that I knew I had gone too far – and yes, I spent many hours taped to a chair! Had I become rebellious?

Well, my son was intended to lead the Human rebellion against Sky Net!

..._...

Maybe I should mention that I got _so_ annoyed one day that I actually shot Pops!

Two rounds from my Sterling, right in the chest... I was mortified about what I had just done almost immediately. I had dropped the weapon, burst into tears and hugged Pops tightly, ignoring the ‘blood’ that spread across his chest.

Yeah, I spent most of the months of July and August of 1976 grounded. Well, not so much grounded as doing hard labour! I have a feeling that I am never going to live that down.

Pops’ response when I shot him?

“Don’t do that again.”

* * *

 

**_T-800 (Model 101) v2.42_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _96.00%_ **Endoskeleton:** _93.10%_ **Living Tissue:** _100%_

**_Power Cell 1:_ ** _95.12% **Power Cell 2:** 96.45% **Remaining Life:** 115 Years 2 Months 8 Days 17 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _33%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE - MOODY_

**_Secondary Mission:_ ** _Training of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** PROCEEDING_

**_ Additional Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary:_ ** _Procure Components for TDD **Current Status:** 48 of 3,147 Components Procured_

**_Secondary:_ ** _Assemble Time Displacement Device **Current Status:** NOT STARTED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Sarah Connor is struggling with her adolescence._

* * *

 

**_T-800 Series (Model 715) v1.08_ **

**_****STATUS UPDATE****_ **

**_Mode:_ ** _Surveillance_

**_Targets:_ ** _None_

**_Mission:_ ** _Protection_

**_Health:_ ** _97.01%_ **Endoskeleton:** _95.26%_ **Living Tissue:** _100%_

**_Power Cell:_ ** _95.22% **Remaining Life:** 116 Years 6 Months 8 Days 12 Hours_

**_Probability of Attack:_ ** _33.4%_

**_ Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary Mission:_ ** _Survival of Sarah Connor **Current Status:** ALIVE – MOODY BUT TOLERABLE_

**_ Additional Mission Parameters _ **

**_Primary:_ ** _Procure Components for TDD **Current Status:** 48 of 3,147 Components Procured_

**_Secondary:_ ** _Assemble Time Displacement Device **Current Status:** NOT STARTED_

_Other parameters available_

**_Status of Mission:_ ** _CURRENT PARAMETERS MET_

** Updates to database **

_Sarah Connor is struggling with her adolescence._

_Note : Sarah Connor gets angry easily and may respond with violence and bullets._

 


End file.
